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“Bill Dwight’s daughter?” — Page 62 







HALF A DOZEN GIRLS 



BY 



ANNA CHAPIN RAY 

i; 

Author of “Half a Dozen Boys” 




NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

46 East Fourteenth Street (Union Square) 



Copyright, 1891, 

By T. Y. Crowell & Co. 


Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston. 
Presswork by A. Mudgr & Son, Boston. 


T. Y. Crowell & Co., Bookbinders, Boston. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Adams Family 7 

II. The V 25 

III. The Girls try to improve their Minds . . 42 

IV. Miss Bean comes to Lunch 60 

V. Two More Girls 81 

VI. Polly encounters the Servant Question . 102 

VII. Polly’s Housekeeping 122 

VIII. Hallowe’en . . 142 

IX. The New Reading Club 161 

X. Polly’s Poem 178 

XI. Jean’s Christmas Eve ... ..... 197 

XII. Half a Dozen Cooks 214 

XIII. Alan and Polly have a Dress Rehearsal . 234 

XIV. Polly’s Dark Day 252 

XV. The Play 267 

XVI. Job goes to a Funeral 284 

XVII. Miss Bean’s Visit is returned 300 

XVIII. Mr. Baxter takes a Nap 317 

XIX. Katharine’s Call 336 

XX. One Last Glimpse 356 




TO 

MY PARENTS 

I OFFER THESE MEMORIES OF A HAPPY, 


NAUGHTY CHILDHOOD 


“ My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; 

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray : 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
For every day. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will he clever ; 

Do noble things, not dream them, all day long : 
And so make life, death, and that vast forever 
One grand, sweet song.” 


Charles Kingslei 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ADAMS FAMILY. 

“ ‘ There was a little girl, 

And she had a little curl, 

And it hung right down over her forehead ; 


And when she was good, 
She was very, very good, 


And when she was bad, she was horrid ! * 


And that’s you ! ” chanted Polly Adams in a 
vigorous crescendo, as she watched the retreating 
figure of her guest. Then climbing down from 
her perch on the front gate, she added to herself, 
“ Mean old thing ! I s’pose she thinks I care be- 
cause she’s gone home ; but I’m glad of it, so 
there ! ” And with an emphatic shake of her 
curly head, she ran into the house. 

Up-stairs, in the large front room, sat her mother 
and her aunt, busy with their sewing. The blinds 
were closed, to keep out the warm sun of a sultry 
July day, and only an occasional breath of air 


7 



8 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


found its way in between their tightly turned 
slats. The whir of the locust outside, and the 
regular creak, creak of Aunt Jane’s tall rocking- 
chair were the only sounds to break the stillness. 
This peaceful scene was ruthlessly disturbed by 
Polly, who came flying into the room and dropped 
into a chair at her mother’s side. 

44 Oh, how warm you are here ! ” she exclaimed, 
as she pushed back the short red-gold hair that 
curled in little, soft rings about her forehead. 

44 Little girls that will run on such a day as this 
must expect to be warm,” remarked Aunt Jane 
sedately, while she measured a hem with a bit of 
paper notched to show the proper width. 44 Now 
if you and Molly would bring your patchwork up 
here, and sew quietly with your mother and me, 
you would be quite cool and comfortable.” 

44 Patchwork ! ” echoed Polly, with a scornful 
little laugh. 44 Girls don’t sew patchwork nowa- 
days, Aunt Jane.” 

44 It would be better for them if they did, then,” 
returned Aunt Jane severely. 44 It is a much 
more useful way of spending one’s time, than em- 
broidering nonsensical red wheels and flowers and 
birds on your aprons, as you have been doing. 
Your grandmother used to make us sew patch- 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


9 


work ; and before I was your age, I had pieced up 
three bedquilts, — one rising-sun, one fox-chase, 
and the other just plain boxes.” 

“ I don’t care,” Polly interrupted saucily ; “ I 
never could see the use of cutting up yards and 
yards of calico, just for the sake of sewing it 
together again. Wouldn’t you rather, have me 
make you a pretty apron, Jerusalem?” And she 
leaned over to pat her mother’s cheek affection- 
ately, as she added, “And besides, Molly’s gone 
home.” 

“ Has she ? ” asked Mrs. Adams, in some sur- 
prise. “I thought she was going to spend the 
day.” 

Polly blushed a little. 

“So she was,” she admitted at length; “but 
she changed her mind.” 

Mrs. Adams looked at her little daughter in- 
quiringly for a moment, and seemed about to 
speak, but catching the eye of Aunt Jane, who 
was watching them sharply, she only said, — 

“ I am sorry ; for I wanted to send a pattern to 
Mrs. Hapgood, when she went home, and now I 
shall have to wait.” 

“I’ll take it over now, mamma; I’d just as 
soon.” And Polly jumped up and caught her 


10 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


sailor hat from the table where she had tossed 
it. 

“ I should like to have you, if you will, Polly. 
It is in my room, and I’ll get it for you.” 

She put down her work and went out into the 
hall, followed by Polly. 

“ Have you and Molly been quarrelling again ? ” 
she asked, when the door had closed between them 
and Aunt Jane. 

u Only a little bit, mamma,” confessed Polly. 
“ Molly was teasing me all the time, and at last 
I was mad, so I said I wished she’d go home, and 
she went right straight off.” 

“ I am sorry my daughter should be so rude to 
her company,” began Mrs. Adams soberly. 

“ So’m I,” interrupted Polly; “I don’t mean to; 
but she makes me cross, and before I know it I 
flare up. I wish she hadn’t gone, too ; for we 
promised to go over to see Florence this afternoon, 
and she’ll think it is queer if we don’t.” 

“ I wish you would try to be a little more 
patient, Polly,” said her mother. “You mustn’t 
be cross every time that Molly laughs at you; 
and you answered Aunt Jane very rudely just 
now. You need to watch that tongue of yours, 
my dear, and not let it run away with you. And 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


11 


now take this to Mrs. Hapgood, and tell her she 
will need to allow a good large seam when she 
cuts it, for Molly is taller than you.” 

“ Yes’m,” said Polly meekly, as she held up 
her face for the kiss, without which she never 
left the house. 

Then she slowly went down the stairs, and 
out at the door, thinking over what her mother 
had just said to her, and resolving, as she did 
at least twice every day, that she would never, 
never quarrel with Molly again. But not in 
vain had Mrs. Adams devoted the past thirteen 
years to watching her only child, and she under- 
stood Polly’s present mood well enough to call 
to her from the window, — 

“You’d better bring Molly back to lunch, I 
think. We’re going to have raspberry shortcake, 
and you know she likes that.” 

And Polly looked up, with a brightening face, 
to answer, — 

“All right.” 

Then, in spite of the warm day, she went hur- 
rying off down the street, while her mother stood 
by the window, watching until the bright curls 
under the blue sailor hat had passed out of sight. 
Then she turned away with a half-smile, saying 
to herself, — 


12 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Poor Polly ! She has hard times fighting her 
temper; but Molly does tease her unmercifully. 
After all, she comes naturally by it, for she’s 
very much as I was, at her age.” 

“What’s the matter?” queried Aunt Jane, as 
her sister came back and took up her work once 
more. “ Have Molly and Polly been haying 
another fuss ? ” 

“ Nothing serious, I think,” said Mrs. Adams 
lightly. 

Aunt Jane’s thin lips straightened out into an 
ominous line as she answered, — 

“Strange those two children can’t get on to- 
gether ! I think it is largely Polly’s fault, for 
Molly is a sweet, quiet girl. You are spoiling 
Polly, Isabel, as I keep telling you. Some day 
you’ll come to realize it, and be sorry.” 

Mrs. Adams bit her lip for an instant, and a 
clear, bright color came into her cheeks ; but 
after a moment she replied quietly, — 

“ You must allow me to be the judge of that, 
Jane.” 

“ Of course you can do as you like with your 
own child,” retorted Aunt Jane stiffly ; “ but I 
can’t shut my eyes to what is going on around 
me, and let a naturally good child be spoiled 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


13 


for want of a firm hand, without saying a word 
to stop it. Your mother didn’t bring you up in 
that way, Isabel, though she did indulge you a 
great deal more than she did us older children.” 

As Aunt Jane paused, Mrs. Adams rose ab- 
ruptly and left the room, saying something about 
a letter which she must write in time for the 
next mail. 

Aunt Jane could be exasperating at times, as 
even her younger sister was forced to admit, and 
occasionally she was driven to the necessity of 
running away from her, rather than yield to the 
temptation of answering sharp words with sharper. 
Mrs. Adams could and did bear patiently with 
unasked advice in all matters but one ; but in 
regard to the discipline of her little daughter she 
stood firm, for she and her husband had agreed 
that here Aunt Jane was -not to be allowed to 
interfere. Yet, though Aunt Jane soon found 
that her sister left her and went away whenever 
the subject was mentioned, the worthy woman 
was not to be turned aside, but returned to the 
charge with unfailing persistency. 

The intimacy between mother and daughter 
was a peculiar one, and at times seemed far more 
like that between two sisters. Mrs. Adams was 


14 


HALF A BOZEN GIRLS. 


one of the women whose highest ambition was of 
the rather old-fashioned kind, — to make a pleas- 
ant, homelike home, and to be an intelligent, 
helpful wife and mother. From her quiet cor- 
ner she looked out at her friends who had “ca- 
reers,” with curiosity rather than envy, and, for 
herself, was content to have her world bounded 
by the interests of her husband and Polly. It 
might be a narrow life, but it was a busy and a 
happy one. With all her household cares, she 
still found time to look into the books which 
were interesting her husband, and intelligently 
discuss their contents with him; she read aloud 
with Polly, played games with her, and watched 
over her with a quick understanding of this 
warm-hearted, impetuous little daughter, in whom 
she saw herself so closely reflected that she knew, 
from the memory of her own childhood, just how 
to deal with all of Polly’s freaks and whims. 
And her endless patience and devotion were well 
rewarded, for Polly adored her pretty, bright little 
mother with all the fervor of her being. There 
were times, it is true, when Polly rebelled 
against all restraint; but such moments were of 
short duration, and, for the most part, she yielded 
easily to the pleasant, firm discipline which made 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


15 


duty enjoyable, and punishment the necessary 
result of wrong-doing, a result as hard for the 
mother to inflict as for the child to bear. In 
her gentler moods, Polly realized that nowhere 
else could she find so good a friend, so interested 
and sympathetic in all that concerned her, and 
the two spent long hours together, now talking 
quite seriously, now chattering and laughing like 
children, with a perfect good-fellowship which 
appeared very disrespectful to Aunt Jane, who 
believed in the old-time rule, that children should 
be seen, not heard. However, Polly never minded 
Aunt Jane’s frown in the least, but went on play- 
ing with her mother and petting her, confiding 
to her her joys and sorrows, her friendships and 
her quarrels, and calling her by an endless suc- 
cession of endearing names, of which her latest 
was Jerusalem, an epithet taken from her favor- 
ite, “ Oh, Mother dear, Jerusalem,” and adapted 
to its present use, to the great mystification of 
her aunt, to whom Polly refused to explain its 
derivation. 

Between his office hours and his patients, Polly 
saw but little of her father ; for Dr. Adams was 
the popular physician of the large, quiet, old New 
England town where they lived, A man who had 


16 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


grown up among books, and among thinking, wide- 
awake people, he was a worthy descendant of the 
two presidents with whom he claimed kinship. 
He was a strong, fine-looking man, so full of quiet 
energy that his very presence in the sick-room was 
encouraging to the invalid ; and he had come to 
be at once the friend, physician, and adviser of 
every family in town, whether rich or poor. If 
his patients could afford to pay him for his visits, 
very well ; if not, it was just as well, for neither 
Dr. Adams nor his wife desired to be rich. To 
live comfortably themselves, to lay up a little for 
the future, and to be able to help their poorer 
neighbors, now and then, — this was all they wished, 
and this was easily accomplished. In past years, 
two or three other doctors had settled in the town ; 
but after a few months of trial they had closed 
their offices and gone away, because not one of 
Dr. Adams’s patients could be tempted to leave 
him, and his lively black horse and shabby buggy 
were seen flying about the streets, while their 
shiny new carriages either stood idle in their 
stables, or were taken out for an occasional pleas- 
ure drive. 

If P oily had been asked what was her greatest 
trial, her answer, truthful and emphatic, would 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


17 


have been : “ Aunt Jane.” It was a mystery to 
her as, indeed, it was to every one else, how two 
sisters could be so unlike. Mrs. Adams was a 
pretty, graceful little woman, with a dainty charm 
about her, and a winning, off-hand manner, which 
made her a favorite with both young and old. 
Aunt Jane Roberts was tall and thin, with a cast- 
iron sort of countenance, surmounted by a row of 
little, tight, gray frizzles of such remarkable dura- 
bility that, though evidently the result of art 
rather than nature, neither wind nor storm ap- 
peared to have any effect upon them. On festal 
occasions it was her habit to adorn herself with a 
symmetrical little blue satin bow, placed above 
these curls and slightly to one side ; but there was 
nothing in the least flippant or coquettish about 
this decoration, for it was as precise and unvary- 
ing as the gray frizz below it, and only seemed to 
intensify the hard, unyielding lines of her face. 

Miss Roberts was fifteen years older than her 
sister, and she appeared to have been stamped with 
the seal of single blessedness while she still lay in 
her cradle and played with her rattle; — that is, if 
she ever had unbent so far as to play with any- 
thing. Even her walk was not like that of most 
women ; she moved along with a slow, deliberate 


18 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


stride which was at times almost spectral, and 
reminded one of the resistless, onward march of 
the fates. Aunt Jane was serious-minded and 
progressive, and, worst of all, she was conscien- 
tious. However great a blessing a conscience must 
be considered, there are some consciences that 
make their owners extremely unpleasant. When- 
ever Aunt Jane was particularly trying, her 
friends brought forward the singular excuse : 
44 Jane is so conscientious ; she means to do just 
right.” And she certainly did. So far as she 
could distinguish its direction, Aunt Jane trod the 
path of duty, but she trod it as a martyr, not 
like one who finds it a pleasant, sunshiny road, 
with bright, interesting spots scattered all along 
its way. She had advanced ideas about women 
and pronounced theories as to the rearing of chil- 
dren; she was a member of countless clubs, and 
served on all the committees to talk about reform ; 
she visited the jail periodically, and marched 
through the wards of the hospital with a stony air 
of sympathy highly gratifying to the inmates, who 
tried to be polite to her because of her relation- 
ship to the doctor, whom they all adored. The 
demands of her public duties left Miss Roberts 
little time for home life ; but in the few rare inter- 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


19 


vals, she sewed for her sister, refusing the more 
attractive work, and devoting herself to sheets, 
pillow-cases, and kitchen towels, in the peniten- 
tial, self-sacrificing way which is so trying to the 
person receiving the favor. She appeared to re- 
gard these labors as an offset to the frank criti- 
cisms of her sister’s housekeeping, which she 
never hesitated to make when the opportunity 
offered. Aunt Jane had come to live with her 
sister soon after Mrs. Adams was married; and 
the doctor’s happy, even temper enabled him to 
make the best of the situation, though he had 
at once given Miss Roberts to understand that 
she was in no way to interfere with him or his 
concerns. 

No introduction to the Adams family would be 
complete which failed to mention Job Trotter, for 
Job was a faithful servant who had done good 
service for many a long day. He was the old 
family horse whom the doctor had driven for 
years, but who, owing to age and infirmity, had 
been put on the retired list as a veteran, and given 
over to the tender mercies of Mrs. Adams. She 
changed his youthful nickname of Trot to the 
more fitting one of Job, and stoutly maintained 
his superiority to the lively colt that succeeded. 


20 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


him between the thills of the doctor’s buggy. 
Job, too, appeared to share her opinion, and never 
failed to give a vicious snap at his rival, when- 
ever they came in contact. There was a family 
legend that Job had been a fast animal in his day, 
and Mrs. Adams often told the story of the 
doctor’s first ride after him : how, at the end of a 
mile, he had turned his pale face to the horse- 
dealer who was driving, and piteously besought 
him: “In mercy’s name, man, let me get out; 
I’ve had enough of this ! ” But all this was en- 
veloped in the haze of the remote past, and now 
Job was neither a dangerous nor exhilarating 
steed, but rather, a restful one, who allowed his 
driver to contemplate the landscape and impress 
its charms upon his memory. Job had been 
twenty-three years old when the doctor handed 
him over to his wife ; and, as if to prove his rela- 
tionship to the family, and to Aunt Jane in par- 
ticular, he had never advanced a year in age since 
then, but, long, long afterwards, his headstone 
bore the legend : 

In Memory of 
JOB TROTTER, 
a Faithful Friend, 

Who died at the Age of Twenty-three. 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


21 


A rear view of Job still showed him a fine-look- 
ing horse, for his delicate skin, slightly dappled 
here and there, his long, thick tail and proudly 
arching neck plainly betokened his aristocracy. 
But unfortunately, reckless driving in his youth 
had bent his fore legs to a decided angle, and 
turned in his toes in an absurdly deprecating 
fashion, until Mrs. Adams declared that she would 
put a skirt on him to cover these defects, unless 
people stopped turning to look after him and 
laugh. 

But it was when he was in motion that Job 
exhibited his peculiarities to the best advantage. 
His ordinary gait was a slow, dignified walk, 
varied, at times, by a trot of which the direction 
was of the up-and-down species, and made his 
progress even slower than usual. But now and 
then the old fellow would seem to be inspired 
with a little of his former spirit, and, after a 
skittish little kick, he would straighten his body 
with a suddenness which brought Mrs. Adams 
to her feet, and rush off at a mad pace that soon 
faltered and failed, when the old brown head 
would turn, and the gentle eyes seem to say 
pleadingly, — 

“I did try, but I can’t.” 


22 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


In reality, the cause of Job’s slowness lay, not 
so much in his age as in his afflicted knees ; and 
they kept his driver in a constant state of anx- 
iety as to which pair would give out next. Now 
his hind legs would suddenly fail him, and he 
would apparently attempt to seat himself in the 
dust; then, just as he had recovered from that 
shock, his front knees would collapse, and Job 
would plunge madly forward on his venerable 
nose. 

But, after all, they had many a pleasant drive 
up and down the country roads, where the old 
horse plodded onwards, apparently enjoying the 
scenery as much as his mistress did, now stopping 
to graze by the roadside, now suddenly turning 
aside and, before his driver was aware of his 
intention, landing her in the dooryard of some 
farmhouse where the doctor had visited a patient 
years before. For Job had a retentive memory, 
and was never known to forget a road or a house 
where he had once been. During the last of the 
time that the doctor had driven him, he had lent 
him to do occasional service at funerals, where Job 
was never known to disgrace himself by breaking 
into an indecorous trot. Something in the cere- 
mony of these melancholy journeys had struck 


THE ADAMS FAMILY. 


28 


Job’s fancy and impressed the circumstances on 
his memory to such an extent that, ever after, 
he was reluctant to pass the cemetery gate, but 
tugged hard at the lines to show his desire to 
enter. It was not so bad when Mrs. Adams and 
Polly were by themselves ; but Mrs. Adams often 
invited some convalescing patient of the doctor 
to go for a quiet little drive, and it was mortify- 
ing to have Job, taking advantage of the moment 
when his mistress was deep in conversation, stalk 
solemnly under the arching gateway and bring 
his invalid passenger to a halt beside some new- 
made grave. There seemed to be no apology that 
could fitly meet the occasion and do away with 
the gloomy suggestiveness of the situation. 

Aunt Jane rarely had time to drive with Job, 
for an ordinarily fast walker could pass him by ; 
but Polly and her mother enjoyed him to the 
utmost, and spoiled him as much as they enjoyed 
him, letting him stroll along as he chose, stopping 
whenever and wherever he wished. To avoid 
being dependent on the man, who was often away 
driving the doctor upon his rounds, Mrs. Adams 
had learned to harness Job herself, and nearly 
every pleasant day she could be seen buckling 
the straps and fastening him into the carriage, 


24 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


while the old creature stood quiet, rubbing his 
head against her shoulder, now and then, with a 
gentle, caressing motion, or turning suddenly to 
pretend to snap at Polly, who was much in awe 
of him, and then throwing up his head and show- 
ing his teeth, in a scornful laugh at her fear. 

This was the family circle in which Polly 
Adams had spent the thirteen happy years of 
her life, respecting and loving her father, adoring 
her mother, and continually coming in conflict 
with Aunt Jane. And Polly herself ? Like count- 
less other girls, she was good and bad, naughty 
and lovable by turns, now yielding to violent fits 
of temper, now going into the depths of penitence 
for them; but always, in the inmost recesses of 
her childish soul, possessed with a firm resolve 
to be as good a woman as her mother was before 
her. She knew no higher ambition. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE V. 

Everybody in town knew the Hapgood house. 
It stood close to the street, under a row of 
huge elms, and surrounded with clumps of purple 
and white lilac bushes whose topmost blossoms 
peeped curiously in at the chamber windows. 
Such houses are only found in New England, but 
there they abound with their broad front “stoops,” 
the long slant of their rear roofs, where a ladder 
is firmly fixed, to serve in case of fire, and the 
great, low rooms grouped around the immense 
chimney in the middle. The Hapgood house had 
been in the family for generations, and was kept 
in such an excellent state of repair that it bade 
fair to outlast many of the more recent houses 
of the town. A wing had been built out at the 
side ; but even with this modern addition, no one 
needed to glance up at the date on the chimney — 
sixteen hundred and no-matter-what — to assure 
himself of the great age of the stately old house 
before him. 


25 


26 


HALE A DOZEN GIIiLS. 


Up in the Hapgood attic a serious consultation 
was going oip 

“Now, girls,” Polly Adams began solemnly, 
u ’most half of our vacation has gone, and I think 
we ought to do something before it’s over.” 

“ Aren’t we doing something this very minute, 
I should like to know?” inquired Molly Hapgood, 
who had felt privileged, in her capacity as hostess, 
to throw herself down on the old bed which 
occupied one corner of the garret. 

Polly frowned on such levity. 

“ I don’t mean that, Molly, and you know it. 
What 1 think is, that we should get together 
regularly every two or three days and do some- 
thing special. Aunt Jane is in lots of clubs and 
things, and — ” 

“I’ve heard it said,” interrupted Jean Dwight 
solemnly, “that Aunt Jane spent so much time 
doing good outside that she never had a chance 
to be good at home.” 

“Now, Jean, that isn’t fair,” said Polly laugh- 
ing. “You know I’d be the very last one to 
hold up Aunt Jane as an example, only she has 
such good times with her everlasting old people 
that I thought we might do something like it.” 

“Which do you propose to do,” asked Molly 


THE Y. 


27 


disrespectfully, “start a society for the improve- 
ment of the jail or open a mission at the poor- 
house to teach Miss Bean some manners ? ” 

“ Let’s have a dramatic club, and get up a 
play,” suggested the fourth member of the group, 
who was seated on a dilapidated hair-covered 
trunk under the open window, regardless of the 
strong east wind which now and then lifted a 
stray lock of her long yellow hair and blew it 
forward across her cheek. 

“ What a splendid idea, Florence ! ” said Jean, 
rapturously bouncing about in her seat on the 
foot of the bed. u How does that suit you, 
Polly?” 

“We might do that, for one thing,” assented 
Polly cautiously; “but oughtn’t we to try some- 
thing a little — well, a little improving, too.” 

“I’d like to know if that wouldn’t be improv- 
ing?” asked Molly. “It would teach us to act, 
and then, if we wanted, we could charge an 
admission fee and raise some money.” 

“I think it would be splendid, girls,” said 
Polly, in spite of herself carried away by the 
prospect, and forgetting her own plan. “What 
shall we take?” 

“ Let’s take ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ ” said Jean. 


28 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


u We could make it over into a play easily enough, 
and Florence would be just the one for Eva. 
Alan could be Uncle Tom, you know.” 

“I think we could get something better than 
that,” remarked Florence, in some disgust. “If 
I’m Eva, I’ll have to die, and I don’t know the 
first thing about that.” 

“ Oh, that’s easy enough,” answered Molly, with 
the air of one who had experience ; “ just stiffen 
yourself out and fall over. But I don’t believe 
you could ever get Alan to act.” 

“Why not take a ready-made play?” asked 
Polly. “It would save ever so much work.” 

“What is there?” said Molly, sitting up to 
discuss the matter. 

“ We don’t want any Shakespeare,” added Jean ; 
“that’s all killing, and Florence doesn’t want to 
go dead, you know.” 

“I’ll tell you what, girls,” said Molly, as if 
struck with a sudden idea, “we’ll have an origi- 
nal play, and Jean shall write it.” 

Florence and Polly applauded the suggestion, 
while Jean groaned, — 

“ I can’t, girls. I never could in this world.” 

“ Yes, you can,” returned Molly, who had firm 
faith in her friend’s ability. “You go right to 


THE V. 


29 


work on it, and you ought to get it all done in 
a week or two, so we can give it before school 
opens.” 

“And we want just five people in it,” said 
Polly. “ I know I can get Alan to act, if Molly 
can’t.” 

Molly shrugged her shoulders incredulously, 
while Jean inquired, with the calmness of des- 
peration, — 

“What shall it he about?” 

“John Smith and Pocahontas,” replied Polly 
promptly. “He almost gets killed, and doesn’t 
quite ; so that will get the audience all stirred 
up, but save the trouble of dying.” 

“ But that only needs three,” observed Florence 
thoughtfully, “ and there are five of us.” 

“ Doesn’t he take her home to England, I’d 
like to know? There’s a picture in the history 
where he shows Pocahontas to the queen. One 
of us can be king, and the other queen.” 

“But at court there are always lots of people 
round,” remonstrated Florence, with an eye to the 
truth of the situation. 

“Never mind; we can make believe that the 
queen has sent them off, so as not to scare Poca- 
hontas; that’s what they call poetical license,” 


30 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


said Polly. “Jean can see about that. There 
are lots of splendid things to wear, right here 
in this garret. Don’t you suppose your mother 
would let us take them, Moll} r ? ” 

“ Yes, I know she will,” replied Molly. 

There was silence for a moment, while the girls 
considered the matter. Then Polly returned to 
her first charge. 

“ But it will take a good while to get ready to 
start this, so I’d like to suggest our doing some- 
thing else, while we wait.” 

44 Polly has something in her head,” said Jean. 
44 Tell us what ’tis, Poll,” 

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Polly, as she rose 
and began to walk up and down the floor. 44 Aunt 
Jane was scolding, the other day, because I hadn’t 
read 4 Pilgrim’s Progress.’ She said it was a liv- 
ing disgrace to me, and that I must do it, right 
off. Now, what if we have a reading club and 
do it together? Have any of you read it? I 
don’t believe you ever have.” 

The girls admitted that they had not. 

44 That’s just what I thought,” said Polly tri- 
umphantly. 44 It’s so stupid that I can’t do it alone, 
for I read the first page yesterday, and I know. 
But we don’t any of us want to be 4 a living dis- 


THE Y. 


31 


grace ’ ; so what if we read aloud an hour every 
other afternoon? ’Twouldn’t take us so very 
long, and,” here she laughed frankly, “I don’t 
suppose it would hurt us any.” 

“I don’t know but we ought to,” remarked 
Molly virtuously, while J ean added, — 

“ I’ve heard people say it was like measles. 
You’d better take it young, if you did at all.” 

“ When shall we begin ? ” demanded Polly, fired 
with enthusiasm at the prospect. 

“ To-morrow,” said Molly ; “ and you’d better 
come here to read, for we can be nice and quiet 
up here. Come to-morrow at three, and we’ll read 
till four.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Florence, suddenly springing 
up, as a small, dark body came flying in at the 
open window above her head, and went tumbling 
across the floor and down the stairs. 

“ What was that ? ” asked Molly, rolling off the 
bed. 

“ A green apple, I think,” replied Polly, as she 
ran after it and seized it. “Yes; here it is.” 

“That’s Alan’s doing,” said Molly sternly 
“I do wish he’d ever let us alone.” 

“I don’t,” said Polly, coming to his defence; 
“ he’s ever so much fun. I get tired of all girls.” 


32 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Thank you, ma’am,” said Jean quickly, bow- 
ing low, in answer to the compliment. 

But Polly missed the bow, for her curly head 
was out of the window, and she was laughing 
down at a slender, light-haired lad who was just 
taking fresh aim at the open window. 

“ Come up here, Alan ! ” she called. 

“ Oh, don’t, Polly ! ” remonstrated Molly from 
within. “He’ll laugh at us, and spoil all our 
fun.” 

No, he won’t,” answered Polly valiantly ; then, 
more loudly, “ What did you say, Alan ? ” 

“ What are you girls about up there ? ” he in- 
quired. 

“Come up and see.” And she drew in her 
head just in time to escape a second missile. 

“ All right ; I’ll come if you’ll promise to play 
something, and not spend all your time gabbling.” 
And Alan vanished through the side door. A 
minute or two afterwards, his shoes were heard 
clattering up the attic stairs. 

The four girls, whom he found sitting in a row 
on the edge of the bed, were such good friends 
of him and of each other, that the five were com- 
monly spoken of as “the V,” or, sometimes, as 
“the quintette.” Alan Hapgood, who was re* 


THE V. 


33 


garded as the point of the V, was a wide-awake, 
irrepressible youth of twelve, who had a large 
share in the doings of his older sister and her 
friends. They did their best to spoil him by their 
unlimited admiration ; but, to be sure, the temp- 
tation to do so was a strong one, for Alan was 
a lovable fellow, always merry and good-natured, 
generous and accommodating to his friends, and 
quick to plan and execute the pranks which added 
the spice of mischief to the doings of the V. In 
person he was tall for his age, and slight, with 
thick, yellow hair, that lay in a smooth, soft line 
across his forehead, large gray eyes, and a gener- 
ous mouth, full of strong, white teeth which were 
usually in sight, for Alan was nearly always laugh- 
ing, — not a handsome boy, exactly, for his features 
were quite irregular, but a splendid one, whom 
one would instinctively select as a gentleman’s 
son, and an intelligent, manly lad. 

His sister Molly, two years older, was an at- 
tractive, bright girl, whose only beauty lay in her 
smooth, heavy braids of brown hair. She and 
Polly had been constant companions from their 
babyhood, had quarrelled and “made up,” had 
quarrelled and made up again, three hundred and 
sixty-five days a year for the last thirteen years, 


34 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


and at the end of that time they were closer 
friends than ever. Two girls more unlike it 
would have been hard to find, for Molly was as 
quiet and deliberate as Polly was impetuous ; but 
nevertheless, in spite of their continual disagree- 
ments, they were inseparable. They were in the 
same class in school and in Sunday-school, they 
had the same friends, and read the same books, 
and had a share in the same mischief. They even 
carried this trait so far as to both come down 
with mumps on the same day, when their un- 
wonted absence from school was the source of 
much speculation among their friends, who fondly 
pictured them as indulging in some frolic, until 
the melancholy truth was known. 

Next to Alan, Jean Dwight was the boy of the 
V, a strong, hearty, happy young woman of 
fourteen, who succeeded in getting a great deal 
of enjoyment out of this humdrum, work-a-day 
world. Her rosy cheeks glowed and her brown 
eyes shone with health ; for Jean was as full of 
life as a young colt, and vented her superfluous 
energy in climbing trees, walking fences, and 
running races, until Aunt Jane and her followers 
raised their hands and eyes in well-bred horror. 
But Jean’s unselfish devotion to her mother, her 


THE V. 


35 


real refinement, her quick understanding, and her 
sound common sense did much to atone for her 
hoydenish ways, and gave promise of the fine 
womanhood which lay before her. At first it 
had been a matter of some surprise, in the aris- 
tocratic old town, that Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hap- 
good, representatives of “our first families,” as 
they were universally acknowledged to be, could 
allow their children to be so intimate with Jean 
Dwight, whose father was only a carpenter, and 
whose mother took in sewing. However, any 
comments were promptly silenced when Mrs. 
Adams had been heard to say, one day, that she 
was always glad to have Polly with such a 
womanly girl as Jean Dwight, so free from any 
nonsensical, grown-up airs. From that time on- 
ward Jean’s position was an established fact. 

Florence Lang was the acknowledged beauty 
of the Y, a dainty maiden of thirteen, with fluffy, 
yellow hair, great blue eyes, and a pink and white 
skin which might have made a French doll sigh 
with envy. The only daughter of a luxurious 
home, she was always beautifully dressed, always 
quiet in her manners. No matter how excited 
and demoralized the rest of the Y might become, 
Florence never failed to come out of the frolic 


36 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


as gentle and unspotted as she went in, greatly to 
the disgust and envy of Polly, whose clothes had 
a tendency to get mysteriously torn, whose shoes 
appeared to go in search of dust, and whose short, 
curly hair had a perfect genius for getting into a 
state of wild disorder. It was not that Florence 
seemed to take any more care of herself than the 
others, but she was naturally one of those favored 
beings to whom no particle of dust could cling, 
who could use none but the choicest language. 
Such gentle children have admirers enough ; it is 
the luckless, quick-tempered Pollies, the warm- 
hearted, harum-scarum Jeans, who need a cham- 
pion. 

If Molly and Polly had never disagreed, the 
quintette would have been only a trio ; for, when 
they were at peace, they were all in all to each 
other. But in times of strife Molly was devoted 
to Florence Lang, while Polly took refuge with 
Jean Dwight. In this way the V was formed; 
and though the closest intimacy was between 
Molly and Polly, the four girls were firm friends, 
and there were few days when they were not to 
be found together, usually either at the Hapgood 
house, or at Polly’s, where their visit was never 
quite satisfactory unless Mrs. Adams was in the 


THE V. 


37 


midst of the group. Alan, too, was often with 
them, for a tendency to rheumatism, which occa- 
sionally developed into a severe attack of the dis- 
ease, kept him in rather delicate health, and pre- 
vented his entering into the athletic sports which 
are the usual amusement for lads of his age. But 
though he was thus, of necessity, thrown much 
with his sister and her girl friends, Alan was far 
from belonging to that uninteresting species of 
humanity, the girl-boy ; instead of that, he was 
a genuine, rollicking boy, with never a trace of 
the prig about him. 

“Well, what was it you wanted of me?” Alan 
asked, as soon as his head reached the level of 
the attic floor. 

“We didn’t want you; you came,” retorted 
Molly, with the frankness of a sister. 

“No such thing; you called me, — at least, 
Polly did.” And Alan marched across the floor 
to seat himself beside his champion, sure that 
there he would find a welcome. 

He was not mistaken, for Polly remarked pro- 
tectingly, — 

“I did call you, Alan, for we want to have 
some fun, this horrid day, and we need you to 
stir us up.” 


88 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ All right ; how shall I go to work ? ” inquired 
Alan cheerfully. “ Shall I dance a breakdown, or 
will you play tag? ” 

“Let’s play hide-and-seek,” suggested Jean; 
“ it’s so nice and dark up here, to-day.” 

“ Wait a minute,” interposed Florence. “Alan, 
we may as well tell you now: Jean is going to 
write a play for us to act, and you are going to 
be John Smith and have your head cut off.” 

“ The mischief, I am ! ” with a prolonged whis- 
tle of surprise and disgust. “ It strikes me I 
have something to say about what shall be done 
with my head.” 

“Stop using such dreadful expressions, Alan,” 
said Molly primly. “You know mamma doesn’t 
like to hear you say 1 the mischief.’ ” 

“Well, she didn’t, ’cause she isn’t here,” re- 
turned Alan, in nowise abashed by his reproof. 
“ And I don’t believe she’d like to hear you girls 
planning to cut my head off, either.” 

“Oh, Alan, you goose!” said Polly. “John 
Smith’s head wasn’t cut off, for Pocahontas saved 
him, you know. All you’ll have to do will be to 
lie down with your head on a stone, and have one 
of us girls get ready to hit you with a club.” 

“ If you girls are going to manage the club,” 


THE V. 


39 


remarked the boy, with masculine scorn, “I’d 
much rather have you try to hit me, for then I’d 
be safe.” 

“ That’s a very old joke, Alan,” said Jean, with 
disgust ; “ and besides, it isn’t polite. You ought 
to be proud to be asked to have a part in our 
grand play.” 

“Will you act, or won’t you?” demanded Polly 
sternly, as she seized him by his short, thick hair. 

“ Oh, anything to get peace,” groaned Alan. 

“ Say yes, then.” 

“Yes.” 

“Very well. Now, you are to be ready when- 
ever we want you; you are to do just what we 
want, and do it in just the way we want. Do you 
promise ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! But do hurry up and play some- 
thing, or it will be dark before you begin.” 

“ There ! ” said Polly, nodding triumphantly to 
the girls as she released him. “ Didn’t I tell you 
I’d get him to act ? ” 

“You couldn’t bribe him to keep out of it,” 
said Jean, as they sprang up for their game. 

The old attic was a favorite meeting-place for 
the V, who held high carnival there, now racing 
up and down the great floor and hiding in dark 


40 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


corners behind aged chests and spinning-wheels, 
now robing themselves in the time-honored gar- 
ments which had done duty for various ancestors 
of the Hapgood family, and exchanging visits of 
mock ceremony, or inviting Mrs. Hapgood up to 
witness a remarkable tableau or an impromptu 
charade. Piles of illustrated papers filled one 
corner, and, when all else failed, the children used 
to pore over the sensational pictures of the Civil 
War, dwelling with an especial interest on the 
scenes of death and carnage. In another corner 
was arranged a long row of old andirons, warming- 
pans, and candlesticks, flanked by an ancient 
wooden cradle with a projecting cover above the 
head. Rows of dilapidated chairs there were, of 
every date and every degree of shabbiness, — those 
old friends which start in the parlor and slowly 
descend in rank, first to the sitting-room or library, 
then up-stairs, and so, by easy stages, to the hospi- 
tal asylum of the garret. And up through the 
very midst of it all, midway between the two 
small windows which lighted the opposite ends of 
the attic, rose the huge gray stone chimney, like a 
massive backbone to the body of the house. What 
stories of the past the old chimney could have 
told ! What descriptions of Hapgoods, long dead, 
who had warmed themselves about it! What 


THE Y. 


41 


secret papers had been burned in its wide throat ! 
What sweet and tender home scenes had been 
enacted on the old settles ranged before its glow- 
ing hearths, which put to shame our tiny modern 
fireplaces and insignificant grates ! But the old 
chimney kept its own counsel, and did not whisper 
a word, even to the swallows that built their nests 
in the crannies of its sides. If it had spoken, 
there would be no need for any one else to write 
of the doings of the V ; for the chimney had 
silently watched the children day by day, and 
knew, better than any one besides, the simple story 
of their young lives. 

“Now,” Polly reminded them, as they were 
running down the stairs an hour later ; 44 remem- 
ber to come to-morrow at just three, all of you.” 

“ What’s up ? ” inquired Alan curiously. 

“ 4 Pilgrim’s Progress,’ ” said Jean, as she leaped 
down from the fourth stair, and landed in an 
ignominious pile on her knees ; “ we’re going to 
read it aloud together.” 

44 I’m sorry for you, then,” responded Alan. 
44 Mother read it to me when I had scarlet fever, 
ever so long ago, and it’s no end stupid.” 

44 We’re going to try it, anyway,” said Polly, 
with an air of determination. 44 Come on, Jean ; it’s 
time I was at home. I’ll see you to-morrow, girls.” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 

Polly’s reading-club started off valiantly the 
next afternoon, and for an hour the girls read 
aloud industriously, while the rain pattered on the 
shingles above their heads. The experiment had 
all the charm of novelty, and the weather was 
in their favor, since there was little temptation to 
be out of doors ; so, at the close of the first day, 
the reading was voted a great success. However, 
the next time there was a slight decrease in the 
interest, and Jean’s suggestion as they sat down, 
that they should read for half an hour and play 
games the rest of the time, was hailed with de- 
light by all but Polly, who was haunted by the 
possibility of being that “living disgrace” which 
Aunt Jane had pronounced her. Still, Polly was 
in the minority, and the change of programme was 
adopted. At the third meeting, Molly was the 
one to propose an adjournment at the end of the 
first quarter of an hour, and the girls were not 
slow to take advantage of the suggestion, and 
42 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 43 


go rushing down-stairs, and out into the bright 
afternoon sunshine, to join Alan who was lazily 
swinging in the hammock, with his eyes fixed on 
the bits of white cloud that went drifting across 
the blue above him. 

It was with an air of great decision that Polly 
marched up the attic stairs, two days later. She 
had purposely delayed her coming, and the others 
were anxiously awaiting her. The warm sun 
streamed in at the western window, and threw a 
golden light over the dainty summer gowns of 
the three girls who were in a row on the slip- 
pery haircloth seat of an old mahogany sofa, 
which had an empty starch-box substituted for 
its missing leg. Alan sat in front of them, plac- 
idly rocking to and fro, astride the cradle that he 
had dragged out into the middle of the floor, to 
serve as an easy-chair. 

“Hurry up, Polyanthus,” he remarked encour- 
agingly. “ These girls are scolding me like every- 
thing, and I want you to come and fight for me.” 

“ Do help us to send him off, Polly,” his sister 
begged. “ He insisted on coming up here with 
us, even after I told him we didn’t want him.” 

“ Why don’t you go out and play ball with the 
other boys, Alan?” urged Jean. 


44 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Now, Jean, that’s too bad!” said Polly, filled 
with righteous indignation. “ It’s not fair to twit 
Alan because there are some things he can’t do.” 

u Let him be,” said Florence; “he’ll get so 
tired of it at the end of ten minutes, that nothing 
would tempt him to stay here.” 

“ Good for you, Florence ; you’re a trump,” re- 
turned Alan. “I promise you, I won’t so much 
as speak, if you’ll let me stay ; but it’s awfully 
dull doing nothing, and mother’s bound I shan’t 
play ball. You wouldn’t catch me here, if I 
could.” 

“ Ungrateful wretch ! ” exclaimed Polly, while 
Jean added, — 

“No danger of your saying anything ! You’ll 
be sound asleep before we’ve read a page.” 

“What’s the use of reading it, then?” was 
Alan’s pertinent question. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Florence. 
“ It’s one of Polly’s ideas, or rather, Aunt Jane’s.” 

“ Aunt Jane ought to be ganched ! ” remarked 
Alan, with calm disrespect ; for Polly made no 
secret of Aunt Jane’s eccentricities, and they were 
a common subject of discussion among the Y. 

“ I know it,” confessed Polly, filled with shame 
at the thought of having such a relative. 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 45 


“ Come, Polly, what is the use of reading this 
poky old book ? ” urged Molly. 44 ’Tisn’t doing 
any of us the least bit of good. I’ve listened just 
as hard as I could, and I’m sure I haven’t any idea 
what it’s all about, it’s told in such a queer way.” 

Molly’s use of the word 44 queer ” said more 
than a dozen lesser adjectives. She had a singu- 
larly expressive manner of drawing it out, that 
threw untold meaning into its simple form. Alan 
used to declare that, if Molly once pronounced 
anything queer, its reputation was spoiled, as far 
as her hearers were concerned. This time Jean 
upheld her. 

“ It is very poky,” she announced, as she pulled 
a bit of hair out from one of the holes in the 
cushion, and fell to picking it to pieces. 44 1 
think it’s too warm weather for it, Polly. I don’t 
care what Aunt Jane says ; I’m not going to waste 
these glorious summer days over such stuff.” And 
she pointed disdainfully at the book, a square, 
clumsy volume, bound in dingy black cloth covers. 

Polly looked rather hurt. 

44 1 know all that, girls,” she began; 44 but an 
hour a day, and only every other day, too, isn’t 
very much to spend on it.” 

44 It’s an hour too much, though, Polly,” said 


46 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Molly decisively. “This garret is so warm; wait 
till cooler weather, and then we’ll tiy again. We 
shouldn’t have time to finish it, anyway, before 
Jean had the play ready for us. How is it getting 
along, Jean?” 

“ Awfully ! ” confessed Jean. “ Whenever I sit 
down to write, my head is as empty as an egg is, 
after you’ve blown it.” 

“Now, you girls let me plan for you,” said 
Alan, moved to pity by Polly’s downcast face. 
“ You let your old book go till fall, and then start 
again, but only read half an hour a day. That’s 
all your brains can take in, and I’ll try to be on 
hand to explain it to you. How does that suit, 
Poll?” 

“I suppose it will have to do,” sighed Polly. 
“ I hate to give up, now we’ve started ; but if you 
won’t read, you won’t.” 

“Very true,” remarked Jean, while Florence 
added, — 

“ Now, tell us truly, Polly, do you know what 
the man is talking about half the time ? ” 

“No, I don’t know as I do,” admitted Polly. 

“ Then what do you want to read it for ? ” pur- 
sued Florence, determined to come to an under- 
standing. 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 47 


“ Oh, it sounds sort of good, you know,” said 
Polly vaguely ; “ just as if we ought to like it. 
’Most everybody does read it, and I didn’t know 
but, if we kept at it long enough, it might teach 
us a little something.” 

“ Who wants to be taught ? And besides, I’d 
rather have something a little fresher than this,” 
said Jean, making no secret of her heresy. 

“ Polly ! Polly !■” called a voice from below. 

Polly sprang up from the floor, where she had 
seated herself. 

“ That’s mamma ; what can she want ? ” she ex- 
claimed, running to the window and putting her 
head out. 

Down in the street sat Mrs. Adams in their low, 
two-seated carriage, while Job stood nodding sleep- 
ily in the sun, as he waited for the signal to pro- 
ceed. 

“ Don’t you girls want to go for a little drive ? ” 
she called, as her daughter’s head came in sight. 

In an instant three other heads appeared, and 
she was saluted with three voices, — 

“ How lovely I ” 

“ What fun!” 

“ We’ll be down in a minute.” 

The minute was a short one ; for the girls 


48 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


snatched their hats in passing through the hall, 
and quickly surrounded the carriage, in a gay, 
laughing group. Alan came sauntering down the 
stairs after them, and stood leaning in the door- 
way, watching them settle themselves preparatory 
to starting. Something in the lad’s position struck 
Mrs. Adams, and she beckoned to him. 

“ Come too, Alan ; that is, if you can stand it 
with so many girls.” 

“ May I ? Is there room ? ” 

He ran out to the carriage, then stopped, hesi- 
tating, as he saw Polly touch her mother’s arm, 
and shake her head silently. 

“ I don’t believe I’ll go,” he said, drawing back. 

“Why not?” asked Mrs. Adams, in surprise. 

“ I don’t think Polly wants me to,” answered the 
boy frankly. “I don’t want to be in the way.” 
And he turned back to the house. 

“ ’Tisn’t that, mamma,” said Polly, blushing at 
being caught. “I’d like to have Alan go, well 
enough, only I was afraid it would be too much 
for Job to take so many of us.” 

“ In that case, you might have offered to be the 
one to give up,” said her mother, in a low tone, 
which, though very gentle, still brought a deeper 
flush to Polly’s face. Then she added to Alan, 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 49 


“Nonsense, my boy! You are thin as a rail, and 
don’t weigh anything to speak of. Get in here 
this minute, and if Job gets tired, I’ll make you 
all walk home.” 

Alan mounted to the front seat, where he made 
himself comfortable, with a boyish disregard of 
Florence’s fresh pink gingham gown ; Mrs. Adams 
shook the lines persuasively ; Job waked and began 
to trudge along with an air of sombre patience 
which would have done credit to the scriptural 
original of his name. 

“ I am glad you are all of you used to Job,” said 
Mrs. Adams smilingly, as they moved slowly down 
the main street and across the railroad track. “ He 
really has been a valuable horse in his day, and 
there was a time when nothing could go by him, 
— why, what is the matter ? ” And she looked 
around at the girls on the back seat, as they burst 
into an irreverent laugh. 

“ Nothing, mamma,” said Polly, leaning forward 
with her elbows on the back of the seat in front of 
her ; “ only we thought we’d heard you say some- 
thing about it before.” 

“ Let’s drop them out, if they’re so saucy,” sug- 
gested Alan. “ Don’t you want me to drive, Mrs. 
Adams ? ” 


50 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Thank you, Alan ; but I don’t dare trust you, 
when you are no more used to him, for he stumbles 
so. Go on, Job!” she added, with an inviting 
chirrup, as she leaned forward and rattled the 
whip up and down in its socket, to remind Job of 
its existence. 

But Job was familiar with that operation, and 
from long experience he had learned its lack of 
significance. Accordingly, he only tilted one ear 
back towards his mistress, and went on at his 
former jog. 

It was one of the finest days of the summer, one 
of the days when the season seems to have reached 
its height and appears to be standing still, for a 
moment, in the full enjoyment of its own beauty. 
A shower early in the day had washed away the 
dust, and every leaf and blossom by the roadside 
stood up in all the glad pride of its clean face, and 
turned its eyes disdainfully upward, away from 
the brown earth below. The girls chattered and 
laughed while they rode through the town, past 
the cemetery, where Mrs. Adams had some diffi- 
culty in overcoming Job’s desire to turn in, across 
the long white bridge over the river, and through 
the quiet little village on its eastern bank. Then 
they turned southward, where the road lay over 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 51 


the level meadows, now past a great corn-field, 
now by the side of a piece of grass land dotted 
thickly with large yellow daisies. At their right 
was the broad blue river, shining like metal in the 
sun; before them rose the two mountains that 
watch over the old town, one beautiful in its 
irregular outlines, the other impressive in its bold 
dignity. No one who has lived near these hills 
can ever forget their spell. Though long years 
may have passed before his return, yet his first 
glance is always towards the bare, rugged cliffs, 
the wooded sides, and the white summit houses of 
these twin guardians of the quiet valley town. 

“ I believe I am perfectly happy,” said Florence, 
with a sigh of content, as she leaned back and sur- 
veyed the meadows. 

U I should be, if I could have some of those 
daisies,” said Polly, pointing to a great bunch of 
them close by. 

“ Want ’em ? All right, here goes ! ” And before 
Mrs. Adams could bring Job to a halt, Alan was 
out over the wheel. 

“ Don’t stop ; I can catch up with you,” he 
called.^ “ It’s too hard work to get Job under way 
again.” 

He was as good as his word; for he hastily 


52 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


pulled up the flowers by the roots, came running 
after the carriage, and tossed them into Polly’s 
lap. 

“There! Now aren’t you glad you brought 
me ? ” he exclaimed triumphantly, as he scrambled 
up the back of the carriage, like a monkey, and 
worked his way along to the front seat again. 

“You’re a daisy, yourself, Alan,” answered 
Polly, leaning out over the wheel to break off the 
roots. “These are lovely. Want some, girls?” 

“It’s going to rain to-morrow, I just know,” 
said Molly, disregarding the daisies. “ If it does, 
it will spoil our picnic, and that will be a shame.” 

“ Oh, it won’t rain,” said Jean. “ What makes 
you think so, Molly ? ” 

“It always does,” said Molly wisely, “ when 
the hills look such a lovely dark blue. I heard 
somebody say so, ever so long ago, and I never 
knew it to fail.” 

“ I don’t believe in signs,” remarked Polly vin- 
dictively, with her mouth full of daisy stems. 
“ It’s all just as it happens, only some people have 
a sign for everything. For my part, I’ll wait till 
I see the rain coming, before I believe in it.” 

“ That’s Polly all over,” said Alan. “ She won’t 
take anything on trust; she has to see it first.” 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 53 

“How did the reading come on to-day?” in- 
quired Mrs. Adams, leaning back in her seat, and 
letting Job ramble from side to side of the road, 
at his will. 

“ Not very well,” said Florence, seeing that none 
of the others started to reply. 

“ I hope I didn’t break it up,” Mrs. Adams an- 
swered, as she took out the whip, to brush a fly 
from Job’s plump side. 

Alan giggled. 

“You needn’t be afraid, Mrs. Adams; the girls 
are glad to get off on any terms.” 

“I’ll' tell you how ’tis, Mrs. Adams,” said Jean, 
coming to the rescue, rather to Polly’s relief. 
“ You see, it’s such warm weather, and the book 
wasn’t real interesting, so we decided to let it go 
till by and by. Do you think we’re very dread- 
ful?” And she laughed up into Mrs. Adams’s 
face, with perfect confidence in her approval. 

- Mrs. Adams laughed too. 

“ I didn’t really think you would carry out your 
plan for very long,” she said. “ Polly takes Aunt 
Jane’s words too seriously. In old times, every- 
body read 4 Pilgrim’s Progress,’ but it’s going out 
of fashion now, and — Whoa, Job! What are you 
doing ? ” she exclaimed, as the carriage tilted to 


54 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


one side so unexpectedly that Florence and Molly 
screamed a little. 

Job, grieved at finding himself ignored and left 
out of the conversation, had apparently determined 
to amuse himself in his own way. He had mean- 
dered back and forth across the road, as was shown 
by the serpentine character of his tracks ; now, 
catching sight of a tempting stalk of mullein by 
the fence, he had walked across the gutter and was 
just stretching his head forward to seize the cov- 
eted morsel, when Mrs. Adams interrupted him. 
Her first impulse was to draw him back, but kinder 
feelings prevailed, and she bent forward to give 
him the full length of the lines, saying indul- 
gently, — 

“ The mischief is done already, Job, so you may 
as well have your lunch, for you can’t tip us up 
any farther.” And she sat there quite patiently, in 
spite of her strained position, until Job had de- 
voured the mullein in a leisurely fashion. Then 
she reined him back into the road, remarking, “ It 
isn’t fair for poor Job to do all the work and not 
have any of the fun, is it ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you, Mrs. Adams,” suggested Alan ; 
“let’s all get out and put Job into the carriage, 
and draw him a mile or two, just to rest him.” 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 55 


“You shan’t make fun of Job!” said Polly 
indignantly. “ You didn’t like what Jean said to 
you, and now you go and say, Job is o-l-d and 
s-l-o-w.” 

“ What in the world do you spell the words for, 
Poll?” asked Jean. “I never have been able to 
make out.” 

“ Why, J ob knows what you are saying, as well 
as anybody, and may be he is sensitive about it,” 
replied Polly, to the great amusement of the girls. 

“We might read ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ to him, 
then,” said Jean wickedly. “ Perhaps it would 
teach him to go ahead, if he knows so much.” 

“ Poor old Job ! his going days are nearly over, 
aren’t they, Joby?” said Mrs. Adams caressingly, 
as she rubbed the whip up and down over his 
glossy side. “Well, he’s a poor, tired old fellow 
with a heavy load, so perhaps we’d better turn 
here and go home.” 

This proceeding met with Job’s full approval. 
He had been walking more and more slowly, as if 
overcome by the effort which he had been forced 
to make, and seemed scarcely able to totter on- 
ward, stumbling at every stone. But with the 
change of direction, his life came back to him, and 
with a whi'sk of his tail and an ungainly flourish 


56 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


of his hind legs, he started off at a trot, turning 
neither to the right nor the left, but only intent 
on reaching home and supper. 

“ There ! ” said Mrs. Adams in a tone of dis- 
gust; “when Job does that I just want to whip 
him. He has played that trick on me over and 
over again, and still I am always deceived by it. 
It isn’t more than two weeks since Polly and I 
were driving to the Glen, one very warm day. It 
was a strange road, and all at once Job was taken 
ill in such a queer way ; he staggered and almost 
fell. Polly and I were so frightened, for we 
thought he was going to die, right then and 
there. We jumped out and walked along beside 
him, leading him and petting him. The road 
was so narrow that we couldn’t turn him around, 
without going on ever so far ; nobody was in sight, 
and we were both of us just ready to cry from 
sheer nervousness. At last we came to where we 
could turn him, and backed him around as care- 
fully as could be. What did the old goose do but 
put down his head and give it the funniest side- 
ways toss, and then trot off towards home, leav- 
ing us standing there in the road.” 

“What did you do? did you walk home?” 
asked Alan, while the girls laughed. 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 57 


“ No, indeed ! We made him stop for us, and he 
had to trot the rest of the way, you may be sure. 
Go on, Job ! ” urged Mrs. Adams, shaking the 
lines violently. 

But Job settled that matter by whisking his tail 
over the lines and holding them firmly, in spite of 
the attempts his mistress made to free them once 
more. Finding her labors of no avail, she turned 
her attention to the girls again. 

44 What if you take another plan for your read- 
ing?” she asked, pulling off one of her long 
gloves and turning slightty, as she rested her 
elbow on the back of the seat. u If you care to 
come to our house one or two mornings a week, 
through the rest of the vacation, and read aloud 
with me some good book, — I don’t mean goody, 
— I should be delighted to have you. You could 
do the reading and amuse me while I sew.” 

“ That’s elegant ! ” exclaimed Jean rapturously. 
“ What shall we read, girls ? ” 

u But are you sure that you want us ? ” asked 
Florence doubtfully, for her mother was not par- 
ticularly hospitable to the members of the Y, and 
it seemed impossible to her that Mrs. Adams could 
be in earnest in her proposition. 

44 Indeed I do,” responded Mrs. Adams heartily. 


58 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ I can take that time for darning the doctor’s 
stockings, and Polly’s too, for that matter, for her 
toes are always coming through. I don’t like to 
do it, but I shall be so well entertained that I 
probably shan’t mind it at all.” 

“See here,” said the practical Jean; “let’s all 
bring our stockings to darn. There can’t but one 
of us read at a time, and I just hate to do nothing 
but sit and twirl my thumbs.” 

“ But I don’t know how to dam stockings,” said 
Florence helplessly. 

“Time you did, then,” said Jean. “If you had 
as many small brothers as I do, you’d have plenty 
of practice. Besides, I think any girl as old as we 
are ought to know how to mend her own stock- 
ings, whether she’s rich or poor.” 

“So do I, Jean,” said Mrs. Adams approvingly; 
“ and yet I am ashamed to say that I have never 
taught Polly. But I think I’ll add your plan to 
mine, and tell the girls to bring their darning-bags 
with them ; and I will give you all lessons in a duty 
and necessity that can be made almost a fine art.” 

“ I hate to sew,” said Molly disconsolately. 

“ So do I,” responded J ean calmly, “ but I have 
to just the same ; and that’s the reason I thought 
I’d like to take the time when we read to do some 
of the worst things.” 


THE GIRLS TRY TO IMPROVE THEIR MINDS. 59 


“ I say,” remarked Alan meditatively, as he 
plunged his hands into his pockets, “where’s my 
share in this coming in ? ” 

“Why, nowhere; you’re nothing but a boy, you 
know,” replied his sister, with an air of conscious 
superiority. 

“ One boy is as good as a dozen girls, though, 
ma’am,” retorted Alan. 

“Do you want to come too?” asked Polly. 
“He can, can’t he, mamma?” 

“ I don’t know as I want to, all the time,” said 
Alan. “ I’d like it when I can’t do anything else ; 
but when the boys are round, I’d rather be with 
them, of course.” 

“ That settles it,” said Polly, leaning forward to 
tickle his ear with a long-stemmed daisy. “ Take 
us or leave us ; but we don’t want any half-way 
friends that like us when they can’t get anything 
any better.” 

“ Don’t you mind her, Alan,” said Mrs. Adams. 
“You can come, if you want to, and I’ll protect 
you myself.” 

“ If you come, though,” added Polly, determined 
to have the last word, “ you’ll have to bring some 
stockings to darn. We shan’t let in any lazy 
people.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 

“Oh, dear me, Jean!” sighed Polly. “I do 
believe there’s Miss Deborah Bean coining down 
the street.” 

“What of her?” inquired Jean indifferently. 

“ Why, if ’tis, she’s coming here to lunch. 
She says all the hateful things she can think of; 
and you don’t know how queer she is. I can’t 
help laughing at her; and that makes mamma 
cross, for she wants me to be polite to her, be- 
cause she’s old as Methusaleh and poor as Job’s 
turkey.” 

“ I didn’t suppose your mother was ever cross,” 
said Jean. 

“ Oh, she isn’t cross, exactly ; but sometimes 
she doesn’t like things as well as others.” 

“ Most people don’t,” remarked Jean sagely. 

Miss Bean’s present home was in the poorhouse, 
from which place of retreat she made expeditions 
into the town, at intervals, to visit her old 
acquaintances, and among them was Mrs. Adams, 
60 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


61 


for whose mother she had sewed, during her 
younger, stronger days. On these great occa- 
sions, she was wont to cast aside the plain gown 
which she ordinarily wore, and bring out to the 
light of day the one that had for years served as 
her best when she went into the institution. 
Accordingly, it was a strange figure that turned 
in at the doctor’s gate, and came to a halt before 
the two girls who were sitting on the grass under 
one of the tall elms on the lawn. Her gown was 
of some black woollen stuff, figured with green, 
and its short, full skirt fell in voluminous folds 
over her large hoops. A white muslin cape cov- 
ered her shoulders ; and her head was adorned 
with a yellow straw shaker bonnet, in the depths 
of which her wrinkled face, with its pointed chin 
and bright eyes, looked like the face of some 
mammoth specimen of the cat tribe, an effect that 
was increased by her high, shrill voice. Black 
lace mitts covered her hands ; and she carried, 
point upward, a venerable brown umbrella, loosely 
rolled up, and held in place with two rubber bands. 

“ Is your ma at home ? ” she asked Polly abruptly. 

“She’s in the house,” answered Polly, rising 
with some reluctance. “ I’ll go and call her. 
You stay here, Jean.” 


62 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Jean who ? ” inquired Miss Bean, bringing her 
spectacles to bear on Jean’s blooming face. 

“Jean Dwight, ma’am,” said Jean demurely, in 
spite of a strong desire to laugh. 

“ Bill Dwight’s daughter? ” 

Jean nodded, while her color rose at the rough 
abbreviation of her father’s name. 

“ I want to know ! He was a son of old Enos 
Dwight and Melissy Pettigrew ; and I can remem- 
ber the time, and not so very long ago, either, 
when the Adamses wouldn’t have had anything 
to do with such folks,” remarked Miss Bean, who 
was not only a firm believer in the aristocracy 
of the old town, but regarded it as her right to 
utter all the disagreeable truths that came into 
her brain. 

To-day she had spoken rashly, for Polly, angry 
at the insult to her friend, faced her with blazing 
eyes, while every little curl on her head was 
dancing with indignation. 

“It doesn’t make any difference what you think 
about it, Miss Bean. My mother has charge of 
me, not you ; and she’s glad to have Jean come 
here.” 

“ Dear sakes ! Red hair does show in the tem- 
per,” sighed Miss Bean, unconsciously touching 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


63 


another sore spot, for Polly’s hair was one of her 
trials. 

“ I’d rather have red hair and a temper, than 
meddle with what doesn’t — ” Polly was begin- 
ning hotly ; but remembering that the old woman, 
though uninvited, was yet a guest, she added 
hastily, “ Come into the house.” 

When she came out under the trees again, 
she found Jean still sitting on the grass, with a 
little suspicious moisture around her eyes. Polly 
dropped down by her side, and impulsively 
pulling Jean’s head over into her lap, she bent 
down and kissed her. 

“It’s a shame, Jean!” said she. “Don’t you 
mind a word the old thing says. I don’t care 
anything about your grandpa and grandma; they 
might have been brought up in jail, for all I 
care. It’s you that I like. She’s a horrid old 
woman.” 

“I don’t mean to care,” said Jean disconso- 
lately ; “ but some people always have to tell me 
I’m a nobody.” 

“No, you aren’t, you’re somebody,” contra- 
dicted Polly. “And as long as you’re splendid 
yourself, I don’t see what difference it makes 
whether you have forty cents or forty million 


64 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


dollars, and whether you carpenter for a living or 
doctor for it, — or beg for it, the way she does.” 

They were silent for a minute, and then Polly 
added, with a laugh, — 

“ There’s one thing about it, we’ll have some 
fun out of her, for she’s going to stay to lunch, 
and she’s so funny at the table. She minces so, 
and she never refuses anything to eat without 
telling just why she doesn’t like it. One time, 
mamma offered her some pie, and she said, ‘Oh, 
my, no ! I never eat it. Pie-crust is grease 
packed in flour.’ I’m so glad you are here to- 
day.” 

When the girls went into the house at lunch 
time, Miss Bean was in the midst of a stream of 
gossip. Her usual surroundings gave rise to no 
more varied subjects than the personal appearance 
of her companions, and the routine of the house- 
work, in which they all had a share. Doubtless 
it was partly for this reason that the worthy 
woman made the most of her brief outings, to 
gather up any hits of information which might 
serve to enliven the days to come, and render her 
an object of admiration in the community where 
she was passing her time. In spite of Aunt 
Jane’s frowns, and the efforts of Mrs. Adams to 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


65 


turn the conversation, she was running on and 
on, helped by an occasional word from the doc- 
tor, who derived much amusement from the old 
woman’s visits. As Polly and Jean seated them- 
selves across the table from her, she glanced up 
to eye them with little favor, and then went on, — 

“As I was saying, I stopped in to Mis’ Hap- 
good’s on my way up, and she’d just got a letter 
from Kate. You remember Kate Harvey, her 
sister that married Henry Shepard and went out 
to Omaha to live, don’t you? He’s made a lot 
of money, but people always said he was a miser- 
able sort of fellow.” 

“ Let the doctor give you some of the oysters, 
Miss Bean,” interrupted Mrs. Adams desperately. 

“No, I don’t eat oysters now; there’s no R in 
August,” replied Miss Bean frankly. 

“ Unless you spell it O-r-gust,” whispered Jean, 
in an aside which made Polly choke over her 
glass of water. 

“Well,” resumed Miss Bean tranquilly, “Kate’s 
got two daughters of her own, about Molly’s age, 
and she wants ’em to come there and board, and 
go to school at Miss Webster’s. I don’t know’s 
I wonder, for I don’t suppose there’s any schools 
in them little western towns ; but Mis’ Hapgood’s 


66 


HALE A DOZEN GIRLS. 


all upset about it. I told her she’d better take 
’em, and charge a good, round price for ’em ; but 
she says she hasn’t much room, and then she 
don’t know how they’d get along with Molly.” 

“Do you think they’ll come?” inquired Polly 
eagerly. 

“I don’t know,” answered Miss Bean coldly. 
“Mis’ Hapgood hasn’t made up her mind. She 
sets great store by Kate, being her only sister,” 
she went on, turning back to the doctor; “and 
so I shouldn’t much wonder if she took ’em, after 
all. They say his father shot himself, and — ” 

“Have some of these preserved plums, Miss 
Bean,” said Mrs. Adams, lifting the spoon per- 
suasively. 

“No, thank you. Preserves isn’t very hulsome, 
and I don’t go much on them, excepting pie-plant 
and molasses,” answered Miss Bean, as she poured 
out her coffee into her saucer. 

At this somewhat unexpected response, Jean 
pinched Polly’s hand under the table, and they 
both giggled. 

“ Some folks,” continued Miss Bean reflect- 
ively, “ say it’s a coward that commits suicide ; 
but, my soul and body! I think it’s just the 
other way ; I never should get up spunk enough.” 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


67 


Then, with an abrupt change of subject, she 
added : “ Speaking of folks dying, I see Mr. Solo- 
mon Baxter as I was coming along. He’s aged 
a good deal since his wife died, and no wonder, 
poor man! with all his six children to look out 
for. He shook hands with me, and he seemed 
so all cut up when I told him how lonesome he 
looked, that I says to him : 6 Mr. Baxter, why 
don’t you get married again? There’s lots of 
good women left, as many as there ever was. 
Why don’t you take Miss Roberts, now? She’d 
manage your children for you, I’ll warrant.’ ” 

This was too much for the doctor and the 
girls, and they burst out laughing, while Aunt 
Jane remarked stiffly, — 

“ Thank you, Miss Bean ; but I have no present 
desire to be married.” 

“ Well, I didn’t know but what you might 
think ’twas a case of duty,” responded Miss Bean 
grimly. 

As soon as the meal was over, Polly and Jean 
adjourned to the lawn again, and sat down to 
discuss the situation, for they were both much ex- 
cited over the possible coming of Molly’s cousins. 

“ I saw some pictures of them, once,” said Polly, 
as she settled herself in the hammock. “They 


68 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


were pretty, and they were just elegantly dressed, 
with piles of lace and things, and gold chains 
round their necks.” 

“ Miss Bean said they had lots of money,” said 
Jean thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” answered Polly; “ and they looked as if 
they had it all on. Mamma says ’tisn’t a good 
idea for young girls to wear jewelry, and she won’t 
let me have any at all, but just these.” As she 
spoke, Polly touched the string of gold beads that 
lay closely about her throat. They had been her 
great-grandmother’s beads, and Polly had received 
them for her name. 

“ I shouldn’t wonder if they did that more out 
West,” said Jean. How old are they, Polly? ” 

“ One is older than Molly,” answered Polly ; 
“ and the other is about Alan’s age. Molly hasn’t 
ever seen them, for they’ve always lived out there. 
I hope they won’t come, though,” she added em- 
phatically. 

“ Why not ? ” inquired Jean. “ If they’re nice, 
I think it would be fun to have them here.” 

“ I don’t,” said Polly. “ There are just enough 
of us, as it is ; and if they were here, we shouldn’t 
get any good of Molly.” 

“ It won’t make any difference, if they don’t go 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


69 


to the same school with us. And besides, you 
said this morning that you couldn’t bear Molly,” 
said Jean a little maliciously. 

“ You know I never meant any such thing, Jean,” 
said Polly impatiently. “ I like Molly Hapgood 
better than any other girl in this town, and you 
know that just as well as I do.” 

“What about me?” inquired Jean, laughing, 
for she was accustomed to Polly’s moods, and was 
by no means angry at the alarming frankness of 
her reply, as she said tragically, — 

“ I like you ever so much, J ean ; but, honestly, 
I like Molly better, when she’s nice, for we’ve 
always been together; and I don’t want these 
dreadful girls to come in between us.” 

“ I don’t believe they will, any more than 
Florence and I do,” said Jean soothingly. 

At the mention of Florence’s name, Polly 
straightened up, and looked right into Jean’s eyes. 

“ Jean Dwight,” said she, “ if you’ll never, 
never tell, I am going to say something to you 
that I never told anybody before.” 

“ What is it?” asked Jean curiously. 

“ You promise not to tell ? ” 

“ Why, of course, if you don’t want me to.” 

“ Well,” said Polly, in a whisper, “ I think 


TO 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Florence is a perfect little flat. There ! I suppose 
mamma would say I was as bad as Miss Bean, with 
all her gossip, hut I can’t help it, it’s true. But 
don’t let’s talk about it any more, it makes me so 
cross. Perhaps they won’t come, anyway.” 

“ Here comes Alan,” said Jean, glancing up as 
the boy turned in at the gate ; “ maybe he can tell 
us something about them.” 

In fact, the lad had come to see Polly for no 
other purpose than to talk the matter over with 
her, for Polly was his truest friend in the Y, and 
the two children exchanged confidences with the 
same simple good-fellowship they might have 
shown, had they both been girls. Polly never 
snubbed Alan because he was younger, as Molly 
did, but invariably stood as his champion when 
the other girls scolded him, and tried to send him 
away ; and Alan, on his side, never rubbed Polly 
the wrong way, but respected her quick temper. 
Of course he teased her, as every natural boy 
teases the girls with whom he is thrown ; but it 
was a gay, good-natured sort of teasing that never 
irritated Polly in the least. During his long, 
rheumatic fever of the winter before, she had 
been a most devoted friend, dropping in to see 
him at all sorts of odd hours, to amuse him with 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


71 


her merry nonsense, and had greatly disgusted the 
girls by frankly announcing her preference for his 
society over their own. And Alan returned the 
compliment with interest, declaring that he would 
“ rather have Poll in one of her tantrums than the 
rest of them with all their best manners.” 

He came deliberately across the lawn, with his 
black and white striped cap cocked on the very 
back of his head, and his hands in the side pock- 
ets of his gray coat, and calmly disregarding the 
curiosity of the girls, he made no attempt to speak 
until he had comfortably settled himself on the 
grass at their feet. 

“Well,” he inquired at length, after he had 
arranged himself to his liking, with his hands 
clasped under his yellow head; “what is it you 
want to know ? ” 

“ Everything,” demanded Polly, comprehen- 
sively. 

“All right,” he answered, lazily shutting his 
eyes. “The earth is the planet on which we live, 
and is about twenty-five thousand miles round ; 
a decimal fraction is one whose denominator is 
ten, one hundred, one thousand, or and so forth ; 
America was discovered in — ” 

“ Oh, Alan, do be sensible if you can,” said Jean. 


72 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“We know all that stuff. What we want is to 
hear about these cousins of yours that are coming.” 

“How did you know anything about them?” 
asked the boy, in surprise. 

“Miss Bean is here,” answered Polly. “She 
went to see your mother on the way, and heard 
about it.” 

“ Oh.” 

There was a world of disgust in Alan’s tone. 
Presently he went on, — 

“Well, everybody will have to hear of it now. 

I came over to tell you, Poll, but it seems that old 
woman is in ahead.” 

“ Are they really coming, then ? ” asked Polly # 
anxiously. 

“ Hope not,” said Alan, rolling over on his face 
and pulling up a handful of grass ; “ girls enough 
round already.” 

“ That’s not polite,” returned Polly ; “ but go on.” 

“ There isn’t any on,” said Alan. “ All there is 
about it is that they want to come, and I’m afraid 
mother is going to let them. Molly likes it, but 
I don’t want them round in the way. I know 
they’ll be prim and fussy, without any fun in them. 

I believe I’ll come over here and live.” 

“Come on,” said Polly hospitably; then she 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


73 


proceeded in a moral tone, “ But, Alan, you ought 
not to talk so about them, for they’re your cousins, 
and you ought to like your relations, you know.” 

“Do you like Aunt Jane?” inquired Alan, sud- 
denly rolling over to face her once more. 

But Polly was spared the necessity of making 
any reply, by a sudden voice behind her. 

“ And so this is your garden, Mrs. Adams ! It’s 
a likely place for petunias and sweet williams, but 
I don’t think much of those new-fangled things,” 
pointing to a brilliant bed of dwarf nasturtiums 
near by. Then she went on in a sing-song tone, — 

“‘So I’ve come out to view the land 
Where I must shortly lie.’ 

Needn’t think I expect to lie in your garden, 
though,” she hastily added, evidently fearful of 
being misunderstood. 

“ Hush, Alan ! you must not laugh at her,” said 
Polly, stifling her own merriment as best she could. 

But Miss Bean, absorbed in her eloquence, had 
passed on out of hearing, and Jean returned to 
the charge. 

“Come, Alan, there’s a dear boy,” she began 
persuasively, “ tell us about the girls.” 

“I don’t know much about them,” answered 


74 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Alan. “ Katharine is the older one, about fifteen, 
and Jessie is just my age. Her birthday is the 
third and mine the seventh. I suppose they’re 
well enough, but their pictures look a little top- 
loftical, and I’m not over fond of that kind. They 
are going to bring their pony, if they come, and 
that will be fun, if mother will only let me ride 
him.” 

“You’ll get your neck broken,” predicted Polly. 
“ Do you remember the day we tried to ride Job, 
and he lay down and rolled us off ? ” 

“ That was your fault,” returned Alan ; “ if you 
hadn’t gripped his mane so, he’d have been all 
right. Well,” he added, sitting up and stretching 
himself, “mother sent me to the market, and I 
s’pose I must go, but I thought I’d just stop in a 
minute.” 

“Oh, dear! how I wish I had a brother!” sighed 
Polly, watching his boyish figure, as he sauntered 
away across the grass. 

“Yes,” said Jean slowly, as she thought of the 
four little brothers at home, “it is nice, but it 
has its drawbacks, Polly. When they all want to 
do the same thing at the same time, and can’t 
wait a minute, why, then it doesn’t seem quite so 
agreeable.” 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


75 


In the warm twilight, Mrs. Adams and Polly 
sat on the broad piazza. Miss Bean had taken 
her departure, long before, and Jean had gone 
home to help her mother get supper and put the 
younger children to bed. The birds were twitter- 
ing their last sleepy good nights, and two or three 
little stars were faintly showing in the blue sky 
above the dark mountain, while scores of tiny 
fireflies were dotting the air below. 

“ There, Jerusalem ! ” Polly was saying tri- 
umphantly, as she perched herself on the broad 
arm of her mother’s piazza chair ; “ now every- 
body is out of the way, and I can have you all 
to myself.” 

“What is it to-night?” inquired Mrs. Adams, 
laughing, as she pulled her light shawl over her 
shoulders to keep out the evening air. 

“ Lots of things, mamma,” answered Polly, with 
a sudden thoughtfulness ; “ there’s been a good 
deal to-day.” 

“About Molly’s cousins, for instance?” asked 
Mrs. Adams. 

“ Yes,” replied Polly ; “ I don’t think we want 
them, mamma. I know they won’t fit in a bit. 
And Alan says he doesn’t want them.” 

“ That’s not quite fair of Alan,” said her mother : 


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“ he oughtn’t to say so without knowing anything 
more about them. But, Polly, you may find them 
pleasant friends, and like them better than you do 
Molly.” 

Polly shook her head with decision. 

“ I’m sure I shan’t. But I’m afraid Molly will 
like them better than she does us.” 

“Jealous, Polly?” And there was a tone of re- 
gret in her mother’s voice as she went on : “ I am 
a little disappointed in my daughter. Of course, 
Polly, Molly will be thrown with them a great 
deal, much more than with you ; and, so long as 
they are her cousins, she will probably be fond of 
them. But, after all these years, can’t you trust 
Molly’s friendship enough to believe that it won’t 
make any difference in her feeling to you, but 
that she can love and care for you all, at the 
same time?” 

“Sometimes I think she can, and sometimes I 
think she can’t,” said Polly slowly. “ Once in a 
while, when we have had a 4 scrap,’ as Alan calls 
it, I think she doesn’t care a bit about me.” 

“ Whose fault is it, when you quarrel ? ” asked 
Mrs. Adams, smoothing the short curls. “ I don’t 
think it is all Molly’s fault, any more than it is all 
yours. If my small daughter wants her friends 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


77 


to care for her, she must govern that temper and 
study self-control.” 

“ I know that, mamma,” broke in Polly impetu- 
ously ; “but you don’t have any idea how hard 
’tis, nor how sorry I am after it is over.” 

“ It is just because I do know it so well, my 
dear, that I keep saying this to you ; for I hope 
I can save you from a part, at least, of the pain I 
have suffered in just this same way. I have been 
through it all, Polly, and I know that every time 
you give up to your temper, it is just so much 
easier to do it again ; and' if you were to go on 
long enough, in time you would get to where it 
would be impossible to stop yourself, and you 
would do something that might be a sorrow to 
you, through all your life. It is just so with every 
habit ; the more you give way to it, the more it 
becomes a part of your nature. That is the reason 
I am trying to help you form the habit of a quiet, 
even temper. And now,” added Mrs. Adams, 
changing the subject, “what else was there that 
we wanted to talk over? ” 

“ ’Twas Jean,” said Polly, as she slipped down 
on the floor at her mother’s feet. “ Miss Bean 
was twitting her to-day because she wasn’t rich.” 


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And Polly repeated the little conversation which 
had taken place under the trees. 

Mrs. Adams listened thoughtfully. When Polly 
had finished, she said decidedly, — 

“ That was rather uncalled for, I think, Polly. 
Whatever Jean’s parents may be, they are really 
refined people, and Jean is at heart a lady.” 

“ What difference does it make, anyway? ” asked 
Polly impatiently. 

“Not so much as most people think,” said Mrs. 
Adams. “If your parents are cultivated people, 
it helps you to make something of yourself ; and 
whatever teaching you get from them is so much 
stock in trade, just as money would be, if you 
were starting in business. If, when you have this 
start, you don’t make the most of it, it shows that 
you are unworthy of it ; and if you become a 
grand woman without it, then you deserve ever so 
much more credit than the people who have had 
everything in their favor. Do you understand 
me, Polly?” 

“Yes, I think I do,” said Polly. “And it 
doesn’t make any difference whether we are rich 
or poor, does it?”. 

Her mother paused for a moment, as if the 
question were a hard one to answer. Polly had 


MISS BEAN COMES TO LUNCH. 


79 


a way of asking deeper questions than she realized. 
Mrs. Adams rocked back and forth in silence two 
or three times ; then she said, — 

“Yes and no, Polly. Money in itself doesn’t 
make the least bit of difference ; but people that 
have it can make more of themselves, — I don’t 
say that they do, remember. If Jean didn’t have 
to wash so many dishes nor mend so many stock- 
ings, she could give more time to study and read- 
ing every year. But, after all, I don’t believe 
she would be half so fine, unselfish a girl as she 
is now, when she has to give up doing what she 
likes, to help her mother. It is just the same 
whether it is money, or family, or a fine mind, or 
beauty; the more that is given you, the more 
you are expected to make of it, and the more the 
shame to you if you neglect it. But we’re get- 
ting into very deep subjects for so near bed-time. 
What did Alan come for?” 

“Just to tell me about the girls,” said Polly. 
“ He says they’re going to have a pony, and 
everything.” 

“How well Alan has been, all summer,” re- 
marked her mother. 

There was a sudden click of the gate-latch, 
and a tall figure came up the walk. 


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“ Sitting here in the damp, Isabel, and catching 
yonr death of cold ! I can-’t afford time to sit 
around in the dark doing nothing, when I think 
of all the good that can he done around us.” And 
Aunt Jane stalked past them into the house, and 
sat down to cut the leaves of the last scientific 
magazine. 

However, though Mrs. Adams did not reply, 
she had made up her mind that her usual good- 
night talk with Polly was far more important 
than all the clubs in the world, and no words 
from Aunt Jane could induce her to give up her 
nightly habit. 


CHAPTER V. 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 

“ It does seem as if to-morrow afternoon never 
would come,” Molly was saying, as she and Polly 
stood leaning on the fence in the early twilight. 

“ What time will they get here ? ” Polly asked her. 

“ Three o’clock, and I just feel as if I couldn’t 
wait, when I think how every minute is bringing 
them along. It’s going to be splendid to have 
them here. You must come over to see them the 
very first thing, Polly, for I want them to know 
my best friend right away.” 

“ I do hope they’ll be nice,” said Polly thought- 
fully. 

“Nice!” echoed Molly. “Of course they are. 
I’ll tell you what, Polly, Alan has been running 
them down to you. He is so queer about it; 
I should think he’d like to have them come. 
They’re just' as pretty as they can be, and boys 
always like pretty girls.” 

“ Oh, dear,” sighed Polly ; “ how nice it would 
be to be pretty ! ” 


81 


82 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Why, you aren’t so bad, Polly.” And Molly 
surveyed her with frank criticism. “ If only your 
nose wasn’t quite so puggy, and you didn’t have 
quite so many freckles, you’d be real good-looking. 
Besides, Alan says he likes your looks better than 
he does Florence’s.” 

“ Does he ? ” And Polly flushed with pleasure. 

“Yes, he told mamma so the other day; you 
know boys have queer tastes,” answered Molly 
flatteringly. 

“But I wish I did know of something to take 
off freckles and tan,” said Polly, rubbing her 
cheeks with a vicious force. “Aunt Jane wants 
me to wear a veil and keep white ; but I’d rather 
be black and speckled all over, than make a 
mummy of myself. I think fresh air and sun- 
shine were made to be enjoyed, and not to be 
peeked out at through a rag.” 

“It must be horrid to freckle,” said Molly 
sympathetically. “ Did you ever try anything 
for it, Poll?” 

“No, only lemon juice once, and it all ran into 
my eyes and made them smart; but it didn’t 
touch the freckles any.” 

“ They say buttermilk is good,” suggested 
Molly. “ Why not try that ? ” 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


83 


“That’s a good idea,” said Polly. “We have 
some, and I don’t believe it would hurt. How do 
you use it, Molly? I’ll do it to-night, and then I 
could start white with your cousins, anyway ; and 
so much depends on first impressions, you know.” 

“I’m not just sure about it,” answered Molly; 
“ but I think they put it on over night, and rub it 
in well. You’d better not do it, if you are afraid 
it can do any harm.” 

“ Oh, it can’t,” said Polly, with assurance ; “ and 
even if it does, anything is better than looking 
like a fright.” 

“ But you aren’t a fright,” said Molly loyally ; 
then added, “ What does keep Alan so ? His 
errand wasn’t going to take two minutes, and 
your mother will be tired of him.” 

“ No, she won’t,” said Polly ; “ she likes Alan. 
Don’t be in a hurry, Molly ; this is the last chance 
we shall have to talk for a year.” 

In spite of herself, Polly’s voice failed a little 
on the last words. She loved her friend dearly, 
and the coming of the cousins, with the probability 
of its causing a separation between them, had been 
her first real sorrow. For Molly’s sake she tried 
to be eager and interested about them, but when 
she was alone with Jean or Alan, she was discon- 


84 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


solate enough over the prospect. The three or four 
weeks had flown past, every day bringing the change 
nearer, and the last evening had come. Arm in 
arm, the two girls had been pacing up and down 
the walk, while they waited for Alan, and that 
half-hour had made Polly realize more than ever 
how fond she was of this companion with whom 
she had spent so many contented hours. The 
memory of their frequent quarrels seemed to sink 
away into the past, and only the thought of their 
good times was before them then. But Alan’s 
whistle was heard, as he came out of the house ; 
and he and Molly went away down the street, leav- 
ing Polly standing alone at the gate. She looked 
after them until they disappeared in the gathering 
darkness; then her curly head dropped on her 
folded arms, and she began to sob with all the 
fervor of her impetuous, affectionate nature. It 
was over in a minute or two, and no one was the 
wiser for it but the birds in the tall elm trees 
above her head. Then she turned forlornly, and 
started to walk to the house ; but, with Polly, the 
reaction always came quickly, and by the time she 
reached the steps, she was humming the air which 
Alan had just whistled, as she planned about the 
gown she would wear when she went to see the 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


85 


cousins, and pictured to herself the details of their 
first meeting. It was all so like Polly, to be in the 
depths of grief at one moment, and to be singing 
the next. Her sorrows were just as sincere as 
Molly’s, while they lasted, but the very intensity 
of them made it impossible for them to continue 
long at a time. Polly’s life was one of superla- 
tives : when she was happy, she was radiant ; when 
she was unhappy, she was miserable. There was 
no middle ground for her. 

But to-night Polly was bent on beautifying her- 
self. For Molly’s sake, as well as for her own, she 
was anxious to make a good appearance in the eyes 
of the two girls whom she was to meet on the 
morrow. The last thing before she went to her 
room, she secretly visited the kitchen and helped 
herself to a generous bowl of buttermilk, which she 
carried up stairs. She set it down on the table and, 
lamp in hand, went to the mirror. In the main, 
Polly was not a conceited girl, nor a vain one. 
On the contrary, she thought little about her per- 
sonal appearance, except to give an occasional sigh 
over her hair and freckles. But, just now, it 
seemed to her that beauty was the one thing to be 
desired, and holding up the lamp, she gazed at 
herself steadily, unconscious of the picture she 


86 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


made, with the light falling full upon her bright 
hair and eager young face. Then she set down 
the lamp with a suddenness which threatened to 
shatter it. 

“ Oh, you fright ! ” she said to herself, in a tone 
of disgusted sincerity. 

She turned away and took up the bowl from the 
table, sniffed at it daintily, and wrinkled her nose 
in disgust. The strong, sour odor of the butter- 
milk was not pleasant, certainly, but what mat- 
tered that, if it removed the obnoxious freckles? 
She shut her teeth, held her breath, and resolutely 
applied it to her face, putting it on freely, and 
rubbing it in until her arms ached and her cheeks 
burned under their unwonted treatment. The 
next morning she repeated the operation with 
even greater zeal, and ended by a vigorous appli- 
cation of soap and water, and a rough towel. 
Then she drew near the glass once more, to see 
and admire her soft, white skin, where no freckle 
would be found. As she gazed, her eyes grew 
round with wonder, and she stood as if transfixed 
at the sight before her. To say the least, it was 
striking. The freckles had not disappeared, but 
still the buttermilk had done its work, and Polly’s 
face presented every appearance of having been 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


87 


varnished, for, thanks to the polishing which it 
had undergone, it shone like a new copper tea- 
kettle. For an instant, tears of mortification stood 
in the gray eyes ; then Polly’s sense of the ridicu- 
lous had its way, and, dropping into a chair, she 
laughed till her cheeks were crimson under their 
metallic surface, and her lashes were damp with 
hysterical tears. 

“ What in the world are you laughing at, 
Polly?” asked Aunt Jane’s voice at her door. 
44 The breakfast bell has rung, and it’s time you 
were down-stairs.” 

44 Yes’m,” replied Polly, suddenly becoming 
sober again, as she remembered that she must 
present herself to the family in this plight, and 
would probably be well laughed at for her pains. 

She delayed in her room as long as she dared, 
but her mother had always insisted on perfect 
regularity at meal times, and Polly knew that she 
must appear. With one last, despairing glance at 
the mirror, a glance which was by no means re- 
assuring, she turned away and silently went down 
the stairs and into the dining-room, hoping to take 
her place at the table so quietly that she could 
escape notice. It was not her mother whom she 
dreaded, but she shrank from her father’s teasing 


88 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


and Aunt Jane’s merciless comments. As she 
drew her chair up to the table, Aunt Jane glanced 
up from her oatmeal. 

“ Late again, Polly ! Why, what have you been 
putting on your face, child?” 

Polly’s cheeks grew scarlet, but she answered, 
with an attempt at carelessness, — 

“ Oh, nothing but a little buttermilk. Why ? ” 
“Why?” responded Aunt Jane, with needless 
emphasis, “ I should think you’d better ask why ! 
Have you looked in the glass this morning ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Polly faintly, for they were 
all staring at her, and she saw a mischievous 
twinkle come into her father’s blue eyes. 

“Well, I’d like to know what fresh piece of 
nonsense this is,” Aunt Jane was beginning 
severely, when the doctor interposed, — 

“Wait a minute, Jane ; don’t be in such a hurry 
to scold. Come, Polly, tell us what you have been 
doing to make yourself look like a South Sea 
Islander or a Pawnee?” 

Polly dropped her eyes and played with her fork 
for a minute ; but sulkiness was not in her nature, 
and after a pause, she confessed. 

“ Molly said buttermilk was good for freckles, 
so I put some on mine, but they didn’t come off. 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


89 


You see,” she added, turning to her mother with 
the certainty that she would find sympathy in 
that quarter, if in no other, “ the Shepard girls are 
coming to-day, and Molly wanted me to go over to 
see them right away, and I wanted to look as well 
as I can.” 

Polly was interrupted by a hearty laugh from 
the doctor, who laid down his knife and fork and 
leaned back in his chair, to enjoy his merriment to 
the utmost. 

“ I think there’s no doubt of their being struck 
by your looks, Polly,” he said at length. Then, 
as he saw her bite her lips to steady them, he 
added kindly, “ Shall I tell my little girl what I 
really think about it? I don’t consider the 
freckles themselves beautiful ; but I would rather 
see her with enough of them to prove that she 
lives out of doors in the sunshine, as every healthy 
child should, than be one of the little, pale-faced 
beauties brought up in the house, or under veils 
and broad hats. If I can’t have but one, I want 
my Polly to have health rather than beauty, for 
health is beauty, especially in children.” 

“ Better have a freckled face than a freckled 
soul,” added Aunt Jane, feeling that here was the 
opportunity to make a fine moral point. 


90 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ There’s more connection there than you think, 
Jane,” responded Dr. Adams quickly. “ A child 
is much more likely to have an unfreckled, un- 
spotted soul, when her body has the health which 
comes with plenty of exposure to the air and sun. 
Show me a healthy child, and a small amount of 
care will make her a good one ; I’m not so sure of 
the sickly ones. It’s my opinion that more can be 
made of a healthy sinner than a feeble saint. Isn’t 
it so, Poll?” And he leaned over to pass his 
broad hand caressingly down the shining face, as 
he added gaily, “ There’s one good thing about it, 
my dear; we shan’t have to waste any gas to- 
night. The light of your countenance will be 
quite enough.” 

They were still sitting lingering over their meal, 
when Alan came in to bring a note from Molly. 
At sight of Polly, he started back in mock dismay, 
exclaiming, — 

“ Great Scott, Polly ! What’s the matter ? ” 

“Don’t tell Molly, Alan,” she begged; “but I 
tried to get rid of my freckles, that’s all.” 

Alan gave a low, expressive whistle. 

“I’m glad it’s nothing worse. We had a girl 
once, that told Molly if she let the moon shine on 
her while she was asleep, she’d all swell up and 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


91 


turn black, and I didn’t know but you were begin- 
ning to do that.” 

“I thought you had given up slang, Alan,” 
remarked Mrs. Adams, as she motioned him to a 
chair beside her. 

“ So I have, mostly. Mother didn’t want me to 
use much, and I couldn’t get along without any ; 
so we split the difference and agreed that I could 
have one. I chose ‘great Scott,’ but it doesn’t 
always fit the case. I say, Polly, you’ll be over 
to-night, won’t you? ” 

Polly looked doubtfully at her mother. 

“ Isn’t it rather soon, Alan ? ” Mrs. Adams 
asked. 

“Not a bit of it,” answered the boy. “ Mother 
will be busy with Uncle Henry, because he’ll only 
be here one night, and we’ll have to see to the 
girls. Molly can’t manage them both, and I’m no 
use at all, so we need Polly to help us out. Mother 
said you’d better come over about five, Poll, and 
stay to supper.” 

“I don’t know whether I can get bleached in 
time,” answered Polly, laughing, as she followed 
him to the door ; “ but I’ll come if I can. And 
don’t you dare tell Molly.” 

“ Catch me telling tales ! ” returned Alan, with 


92 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


some dignity. “ That's not in my line, Poll ; and 
not on you, anyway.” 

With an appearance of great carelessness, Polly 
strolled out to the hammock soon after two o’clock 
that afternoon, and settled herself, book in hand. 
But for the next hour, there was little reading 
done, for Polly’s gray eyes often wandered from 
the pages before her, and fixed themselves on the 
distant corner around which the Shepard family 
must come. It was a long hour of waiting, and 
Polly had begun to think that the train must have 
been wrecked by the way, when the distant, shrill 
whistle was heard. At the sound, she drew her- 
self into a more dignified position, settled her 
skirts about her and fell to reading with a will. 
But though her eyes went down the left-hand page 
and up again to the top of the right-hand one, she 
could not have told so much as the title of the 
book, so absorbed was she in listening for the 
wheels that would pass the house. She heard 
them drawing near, but continued to be lost in her 
reading until just as the carriage was in front of 
her. Then she glanced up, as if by accident, and 
was filled with confusion to see Alan leaning down 
from his seat on the box and pointing at her, while 
two broad hats and two girl faces were bent 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


93 


forward to survey her curiously. Alan waved his 
cap; she answered his salute, and the carriage 
went swiftly on, leaving Polly to stare at the pile 
of trunks strapped on behind it, with a vague 
feeling that her intended effect had been a little 
marred by Alan’s demonstration. 

“ Served me right, though ! ” she remarked 
philosophically to herself, as she curled herself up 
to read in earnest, now that her excitement was 
over. “I needn’t have tried to pose for them; 
that sort of thing doesn’t suit me ; I’d better leave 
it to Florence.” 

It was with some misgiving, that Polly, two 
hours later, started to take the familiar walk to 
the Hapgood house. Every riotous curl was 
brushed until it lay close to her small head, but 
already the golden ends were doing their best to 
break loose once more; thanks to her mother’s 
efforts, her burnished skin had lost a little of its 
coppery lustre ; and her fresh blue and white 
gingham gown was as dainty and trim as loving 
hands could make it. But Polly, as she looked in 
the glass before starting, only saw that her hair was 
red, and that her freckles would insist on showing. 
However, Alan’s compliment came to her relief, 
and she dismissed the question of her looks with 


94 


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a smile, as something not worth a thought, and 
ran off down-stairs to say good by to her mother. 

Alan saw her coming, and started to meet her. 

“ What’s the matter, Alan ? ” she said, noticing 
his frown, as she joined him. 

“ Nothing but a crick in my knee,” he explained 
cheerfully; “I think I took cold last night, per- 
haps. They’re up-stairs with Molly,” he added 
vaguely. “I’ll call them down, or will you go 
up?” 

“ I’ll wait here,” said Polly, seating herself on 
the broad stone step. “ What are they like, Alan ? ” 

“Stunning beauties, both of them,” responded 
Alan, with some enthusiasm. “ Katharine knows 
it, that’s the worst of it. I do hate a girl that 
thinks she’s pretty. I’d rather they’d be homely 
as Miss Bean, and not think about themselves, all 
the time. But I’ll go call them.” And he de- 
parted, leaving Polly to meditate on his words. 

The girls soon came down the old stairway be- 
hind her, and as Polly shyly rose to meet them, 
she felt at once the truth of Alan’s description of 
Katharine. There was a strong family resem- 
blance between the sisters, both were dark, and 
they had the same bright, brown eyes and smooth, 
dark brown hair; but Katharine was by far the 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


95 


more beautiful, with her pink cheeks, small regular 
teeth, full lips, and long straight nose with just a 
suggestion of sauciness in the slant of its tip. It 
was this nose that captivated Polly, and, indeed, 
Katharine was like a beautiful picture, in figure 
and feature, while her rapidly changing expres- 
sions and her brilliant health added a charm which 
no picture could ever have. She seemed years 
older than the other girls, and this effect was 
increased by the elegance of her dress and by her 
quiet, settled manners, which made Polly feel very 
young and shabby in her spotless gingham. Kath- 
arine shook hands with a dignity that quite over- 
awed Polly, who turned to look at Jessie with a 
conscious feeling of relief. Jessie was a plump, 
lively young woman of twelve, with less, perhaps, 
of her sister’s delicate beauty ; but the lack was 
more than made good by her perfect unconscious- 
ness of self, and her frank, winning manner, which 
led Polly to forget her formal greeting, and seize 
her hand, saying impulsively, — 

“ I’m so glad you’ve come to live here ! ” 

Jessie laughed, showing a pair of deep dimples 
in her dark skin, as she answered, with a cordiality 
equal to Polly’s own, — 

“ And I’m so glad Molly has such nice friends.” 


96 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


That settled the matter between them, and, arm 
in arm, they strolled out to the tennis court, chat- 
ting like old friends, while Molly and Alan fol- 
lowed with Katharine, who looked about her 
indifferently, nodding slightly, from time to time, 
in answer to some question. 

“I do think these old houses are splendid,” 
Jessie was saying eagerly. “I never saw one 
before. Out in Omaha we call a house old that 
has been built twenty years.” 

“Haven’t you ever been East before?” asked 
Polly, with a feeling of pity for any girl who had 
never known the delights of life in an old New 
England town. 

“ Never since I was a year old, so I don’t remem- 
ber much about it,” answered Jessie. “I think I 
am going to like it, though, for the place is lovely, 
and Aunt Ruth is so sweet.” 

“ I hope you won’t be homesick, I’m sure,” said 
Polly encouragingly. 

Jessie laughed outright at the idea. 

“Why should I be homesick?” she inquired, 
rather to Polly’s surprise. 

“Why, I don’t know exactly, only I should 
think you’d be lonely without your father and 
mother,” she began. 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


97 


“That’s what Aunt Ruth seemed to think,” 
interrupted Jessie; “but I shan’t be, a bit. You 
see, mamma is off travelling with papa ever so 
much of the time, and when she’s at home, even, 
we don’t see much of her, for we are in school 
days, and she goes out, or else has company ’most 
every evening.” 

“ Is that the way people do out there ? ” inquired 
Polly, with perfect innocence. 

The others were standing near and, at the ques- 
tion, Alan shot a sly glance at Molly, as Katharine 
answered, with an air of patronage, — 

“Not all people, you know; but mamma is in 
society, and is very gay, so of course she can’t be 
expected to have much time for us.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Polly, as if a new light had dawned 
on her. The simple life of the old town and her 
own mother’s devotion to her had not taught her 
to know that, when the question arises between 
them, home life must give place to social. 

But Molly saw they were treading on dangerous 
ground, so, to ward off a possible skirmish, she 
suggested, — 

“Let’s have a game of tennis. You girls play, 
don’t you? ” 

It proved that they did, and Alan was sent off 


98 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


to get the net and rackets, followed by Polly, who 
went racing after him, to help him bring out his 
load. 

“ Why, do girls run here ? ” asked Katharine, 
with an air of surprise. 

“Yes, of course we do; run and play tag, 
and do all sorts of dreadful things,” answered 
Molly, with some spirit. “ What do you do, I’d 
like to know? ” 

“ Of course it’s different in a city,” replied her 
cousin sedately. “We play tennis and skate; 
but we never run, all for nothing. Only little girls 
do that.” 

“ What nonsense ! ” was Molly’s comment. “ I’d 
call myself a little girl, then, if I couldn’t have any 
fun without. I hope you don’t consider yourself a 
young lady — Excuse me, Katharine,” she added 
hastily. “I didn’t mean to be rude; but you’ll 
have to take us as you find us, I’m afraid.” 

But Alan and Polly had reappeared, and the 
game began, watched by Alan, who refused all the 
girls’ entreaties to play. 

“I can’t to-night, Poll,” he answered to her 
glance; “I’m too stiff in the joints, but I’ll act 
as umpire.” 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


99 


By the time the game was over, they were excel- 
lent friends, even Katharine’s reserve having yielded 
to admiration for the playing of these two girls, 
who returned her swiftest balls with the precision 
born of long practice. As the bell rang for din- 
ner, she dropped her racket and held out a hand 
to each, saying, with the winning grace she knew 
how to assume at her pleasure, — 

44 1 never saw better players in my life. We 
shall have to try a series of match games this fall, 
West against the East.” 

44 They do play pretty well, don’t they?” in- 
quired Alan from the rear, with a tone of conscious 
pride. 44 I’ve coached them both, and they can 
play every bit as well as I can.” 

44 That’s modesty,” said Polly, laughing. 44 Alan 
wouldn’t play, just because he was afraid you’d 
beat him. We play five here, quite often.” 

44 How do you arrange it ? ” asked Katharine. 

44 Put in an extra one on the weak side,” an- 
swered Polly, stooping to pick up a ball she had 
dropped. 44 It isn’t quite as much fun, but there 
are just five of us, and it gives us all a chance,” 
she added, as they entered the dining-room and 
she took her place between Alan and Jessie. 


100 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“How do you like it, Kit?” asked Jessie, when 
they were in their room that night. 

“ Like what ? ” inquired Katharine, with a sleepy 
yawn. 

“ Oh, auntie and Molly and all ? ” 

“Auntie is rather nice, only she is a little bit 
countrified,” returned Katharine critically ; “ and 
Molly is well enough ; but what a funny little 
thing that Polly Adams is ! She acts more 
like a boy, the way she goes rushing around with 
Alan.” 

“ I like her, though,” said Jessie. 

“She isn’t so bad,” answered Katharine thought- 
fully ; “ she’s a good-hearted little thing, even if 
she isn’t like the Omaha girls. I do like Alan, 
though, Jessie ; don’t you ? He is a splendid-look- 
ing fellow, and has ever so much fun in him. He 
seems ever so much older than he really is.” 

“ Perhaps it’s because he has been sick a good 
deal,” suggested Jessie. 

“ It may be that is it,” assented Katharine, pull- 
ing off the silver bangles that clanked like a crim- 
inal’s fetters at every motion of her hand; “but he 
doesn’t look as if he’d been ill a day in his life. 
I’m so glad there’s a boy in the family ; for they 


TWO MORE GIRLS. 


101 


always keep things going. I wonder what our 
school will be like.” 

The two girls speculated on the future until 
they heard Alan, in the next room, kick off his 
shoes and let them drop, with a thud, on the floor. 
Then, tired with their journey, they fell asleep. 


CHAPTER VI. 


POLLY ENCOUNTERS THE SERVANT QUESTION. 

As time went on, Polly’s first impression of the 
sisters was unchanged. In fact, the girls all 
agreed in pronouncing Jessie “a dear,” and she 
was at once made to feel at home with the V, 
which hospitably extended its arms to take her in. 
But with Katharine it was a different matter. 
Critical of others, and constantly studying the 
effect of all that she herself said or did, she was 
rather a damper on the good times of the girls. 
Fortunately, she usually scorned them as children, 
and spent much of her time with her mates in the 
fashionable boarding-school at which she and her 
sister were day pupils. And yet, she was not to 
blame for this artificial side of her nature. At 
heart she was as true and sweet a girl as Molly 
herself ; but, bred up in the atmosphere of her 
western city home where there was but one end in 
view, to struggle up to the top of the social scale, 
if need be, over the bodies of one’s dearest friends, 
what wonder was it that her growth towards 
102 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 103 


womanhood was cramped by being forced out of 
its natural beauty into the artificial lines of fash- 
ionable society. But it was not yet too late to 
undo the harm, for a generous, warm heart lay 
under her affected indifference and ambition ; and 
her parents had been wiser than they realized, 
when they sent their daughters East to be edu- 
cated, and left them in the care of the motherly 
woman whose social position was too assured to 
have her feel the need for striving, and who, like 
Mrs. Adams, believed that a woman’s highest life 
lay in her home and children, and that society was 
incidental, rather than the main end in view. 

There were times, and they were by no means 
rare, when Katharine’s native sweetness showed 
itself, and then the girls welcomed her to their 
circle. Florence was her favorite among them, 
while she openly courted Alan’s favor, to the 
amusement of the boy’s mother, who smiled quietly 
to herself over his unconsciousness of her attempts 
and his continued, unswerving devotion to Polly. 

“ But what I don’t understand,” she said to 
Florence, one day, when they were out for a walk 
together, “ is how you girls ever happened to pick 
up Jean Dwight.” 

“Pick her up? What do you mean?” asked 


104 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Florence, meeting her friend’s look with a glance 
which was almost defiant, for she was too loyal to 
Jean to fail to notice the scorn in Katharine’s tone 
and manner. 

44 You know what I mean, Florence, so don’t 
pretend to be as absurd as Polly Adams and Molly 
are. Of course you and I both know that you 
three girls could have the pick of the town, if you 
chose ; and I don’t see why you take up with the 
daughter of a carpenter.” 

Polly had called Florence 44 a flat,” but there 
was no suggestion of weakness in her reply now. 
On the contrary, she drew up her small figure to 
its full height, and spoke with a simple, childish 
dignity which might have put to shame her com- 
panion. 

44 You needn’t say any more about it, Katharine. 
It is just because we do have the pick of the town 
that we have taken up with Jean Dwight. At 
least, she is too much of a lady to slander her 
friends behind their backs, even if she is only a 
carpenter’s daughter.” 

44 Don’t be so crushing, Florence. I only wanted 
to know what was the reason you were with her so 
much,” answered Katharine, trying to pass off the 
matter lightly, although she was privately resolv- 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 105 


ing to cultivate the acquaintance of this girl, of 
whom her friends were so fond. 

One bright day in early October, the V had 
walked up from school together as far as Molly’s, 
where they settled themselves on the piazza to 
talk over the doings of the day. Katharine and 
Jessie had joined them, and they sat there chatting 
till the clock struck five. At the sound, Polly 
sprang up. 

“ Oh, dear ! I ought to have gone home long 
ago,” she said regretfully. “ Is anybody else com- 
ing?” 

“I’m going to stay a little longer,” answered 
Jean. “Wait just a few minutes, Poll.” 

“ I can’t, Jean ; mamma will be expecting me.” 
And Polly picked up her hat and started for home, 
followed by Alan who escorted her to the gate. 

She was surprised, when she entered the house, 
to find the lower rooms deserted and in some con- 
fusion. Her astonishment was increased when, 
on going up-stairs, she saw her mother with her 
bonnet on, busy in packing her small satchel. 
Mrs. Adams’s red eyes and white face told her 
daughter that something was amiss. 

“ So you have come, at last ! ” she exclaimed, 
with an air of relief, as she caught sight of Polly 


106 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


in the door; “I was just thinking that T should 
have to send Mary after you.” 

“ What’s the matter, mamma ; are you going 
away ? ” Polly asked anxiously. 

u For a little while, dear. We have had a tele- 
gram that Uncle Charlie is very, very ill. And 
Aunt Jane and I are going to New York to-night.” 

So Aunt Jane was going too! Polly was re- 
lieved at that. Uncle Charlie she scarcely knew, 
so her main anxiety was for her mother, of whose 
devotion to this only brother she was well aware. 

“Is he going to die, mamma?” she asked 
slowly. 

The tears were falling on the toilet-case in Mrs. 
Adams’s hand, but she answered steadily, — 

“I hope not, dear; but they are very anxious 
about him. I am sorry to leave you all alone here 
with papa, and he is away so much of the time, 
too.” 

“Don’t you worry about me, Jerusalem,” an- 
swered Polly courageously, though her heart sank 
a little, as she thought of the lonely evenings. 

“I presume I shan’t be gone long,” said Mrs. 
Adams thoughtfully; “but it is so uncertain. If 
only Aunt Jane could be here, it would be a com- 
fort to you.” 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 107 


But Polly shook her head violently. 

“ I’d rather be alone, mamma. I shall get along 
beautifully, and you’ve no idea what good care I’ll 
take of papa.” 

Mrs. Adams was crossing the room to get her 
slippers. As she passed Polly, she stooped to kiss 
her. 

“ And you have no idea,” she said, 44 what a 
comfort it is to me that you take it so bravely. I 
know it will be forlorn for you, but there isn’t any 
help for it. Papa is getting ready, now, to drive us 
to the station, for it is almost time for the train.” 

As she spoke, the doctor’s voice was heard from 
below, calling to them to hurry ; Aunt Jane swept 
out from her room ; Mrs. Adams snapped the fas- 
tener of her bag and turned to say good by to her 
daughter. Polly went down-stairs behind her and 
stood in the door, looking after them with rather a 
long face, though she waved her hand bravely 
until they were around the corner. 

Then she went back up-stairs, feeling as if, 
all at once, an earthquake had struck their quiet 
home. She and her mother had rarely been sep- 
arated, and the suddenness and sadness of the 
present summons only added to the loneliness. 
The house was in that state of disorder which 


108 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


always follows a hurried packing, and Polly went 
mechanically up and down, putting the rooms in 
order while, in imagination, she followed the trav- 
ellers to the train. Then, when all was done, 
she went into her own room and sat down to 
consider the situation. Taken all in all, it was 
not an encouraging picture that the next few 
days presented. Her father was liable to be called 
away at any hour of the night, leaving her alone 
with Mary who slept at the far end of the house ; 
there would be the lonely hours when she was 
out of school ; the next day was Saturday — what 
should she do with herself ? The prospect was too 
much for poor Polly and, throwing herself down 
on her bed, she gave herself up to the luxury 
of a hearty cry. 

“‘I wish I were dead now, 

Or else in my bed now, 

I’d cover my head now, 

And have a good cry.’ 

Is this what you call a hospitable welcome?” 
asked a sudden voice. 

Polly raised her head in surprise, and saw Molly 
standing in the doorway, with a smile on her face 
and a great bundle in her hand. Polly sprang 
up and threw her arms around her friend excitedly. 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 109 


“ Oh, Molly Hapgood ! where did you come 
from? I never, never was so glad to see any- 
body in all my life.” 

“ If that’s a fact,” said Molly coolly, “ why 
didn’t you come down-stairs to meet me, and not 
make me hunt for you, all over the house ? ” 

“How could I meet you, when I didn’t know 
you were coming ? ” demanded Polly. 

“Didn’t you?” asked Molly, surprised in her 
turn. “ Why, your mother just stopped at our 
house and told me that she had to go away for 
a few days, and you wanted me to come and stay 
with you till she came back. She said you’d tell 
me all about it.” 

“ Isn’t that just like her ! ” exclaimed Polly 
rapturously. “ And you’re going to stay here 
all the time ? How perfectly splendid ! ” 

“ Where’s she gone ? ” asked Molly, as she un- 
packed her brown paper Saratoga. 

“ Uncle Charlie, in New York, is so ill they’ve 
sent for mamma and Aunt Jane,” answered Polly, 
with sudden seriousness, “and they don’t know 
anything more than that. It said — the telegram, 
I mean — 4 Charles very ill, come at once,’ and 
mamma is dreadfully worried. Of course she 
doesn’t know how long she’ll be gone. Oh, I 


110 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


am so glad you’ve come ! ” And Polly, with the 
tears still damp upon her cheeks, pranced excitedly 
up and down the room. 

“You don’t know how lonesome it was going 
to be,” she went on, when she had quieted down 
a little. “Now, if only Uncle Charlie will get 
well, I don’t care much how long they’re gone. 
We’ll just have an elegant time.” 

“ I don’t think Katharine liked my coming 
very well,” remarked Molly, with a giggle, as 
she pulled out an extra gown and hung it over 
the foot of Polly’s dainty white and gold bed. 
“ She seems to think I can’t stir, now they are at 
the house ; but I’m not going to give up all my 
fun for them. They’re nothing but boarders ; 
’tisn’t as if they were on a visit; and Alan can 
see to them once in a while. He can’t bear 
Katharine,” she continued, after a pause ; “ he 
heard her say to Florence, once, that he was dis- 
tangy looking, and he never has forgiven her 
since. We don’t either of us know just what it 
means, but he thinks it has something to do with 
his nose.” 

Polly threw herself into a chair and burst out 
laughing. 

“Oh, Molly, Molly! What will you say next? 
That means distinguished ; it’s French, you know.” 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. Ill 


“I don’t know anything about French, Poll; 
and you needn’t laugh at me, for you don’t know 
much yourself,” returned Molly, with some dig- 
nity. 

“I don’t believe Katharine does, either,” an- 
swered Polly. “The way I happened to know 
about that was because she said so to me once, 
and I asked mamma what it meant. She says 
she doesn’t think it’s nice for girls to keep putting 
French and German words into what they say, 
for it looks as if they did it to show off. Come 
on, let’s go down and see what we’re going to 
have for dinner.” 

Soon after dinner, the doctor went away to his 
office, and the girls decided to settle themselves 
for a quiet visit in front of the open fire in the 
parlor. This was their first evening alone to- 
gether since Jessie and Katharine had come, and 
there was much to be talked over. 

“ Don’t let’s have any light but just the fire,” 
Molly suggested. “ Then we’ll sit on the rug and 
have it all to ourselves.” 

“ I can’t help feeling as if Aunt Jane were 
likely to drop in at any minute, though,” Polly re- 
marked. “ She doesn’t approve of people’s sitting 
in the dark ; she thinks it is lazy.” 


112 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ She’s half way to New York by this time,” 
said Molly; “but I do wish your mother was 
here.” 

“So do I,” groaned Polly fervently, as she 
caught sight of the empty fire-place, for there was 
not one single stick on the andirons. 

Now, to lay an open fire ready for the lighting 
is at once a science and a fine art, and Polly was 
by no means versed in the operation. Why, of all 
days in the year, this happened to be the one on 
which Mrs. Adams had neglected to arrange her 
usual pile of round sticks and kindlings and 
shavings, it would be hard to say. Some little 
unexpected call on her time had made her forget 
this regular duty, and had left her daughter as 
hostess to preside over a cheerless hearthstone. 

“What’s the trouble?” asked Molly, as she 
detected the discouraged ring to her friend’s tone. 
“ Don’t you know how to lay a fire ? ” 

“ I never have laid one, all alone,” admitted 
Polly, whose share in the matter, it must be con- 
fessed, had been to tuck a handful of soft, light 
shavings under the andirons and apply the match. 
“ But,” she added valiantly ; “ I’ve watched 
mamma often enough, and I know I can do it. 
We must have a fire ; the furnace one is ’most out, 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 113 


for Mary forgot to put in any coal, and it’s just 
freezing here. You sit down, and I’ll go get some 
wood.” 

She came back in a few moments, tugging a 
great basket of wood, which she arranged in an 
orderly, solid pile across the andirons, much as 
she might have placed it, had she been packing it 
in a woodshed. Then she added a generous hand- 
ful of shavings, and touched it off with a match. 

“ There ! ” said she, with a prolonged accent of 
contentment; “you see it’s easy enough. It will 
all be going, in a minute.” 

“ Don’t you be too sure,” returned Molly, doubt- 
fully eyeing the shavings which flashed into flame 
and quickly died away, leaving the wood un- 
scorched. 

“ What do you suppose is the matter ? ” said 
Polly, rather annoyed at her lack of success. 

“ Seems to me you’ve put the wood in too 
tight,” said Molly, arming herself with the shovel, 
and trying to pry the sticks apart. 

“ Perhaps I have,” said Polly meekly. 

Regardless of soot and ashes, she pulled the 
wood out on the rug, and began again. This time 
she arranged it cris-crossing as regularly as the 
walls of a log-house, and, having exhausted her 


114 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


supply of shavings, she lighted a newspaper and 
thrust it into the middle opening. The girls 
watched it with eager eyes. It blazed up like the 
shavings and, like them, burned out, leaving only 
the blackened cinders, with here and there a line 
of red, to show where an edge had been. This 
was discouraging ; the room was uncomfortably 
cool, and they were wasting their entire evening 
in preparing for their talk. 

“ The third time conquers,” said Molly, laugh- 
ing, as she saw Polly tearing down her log cabin. 
“ What are you going to do next, Poll ? ” 

“ Lay it yourself, if you want to,” retorted 
Polly, showing more heat than the fire had done. 

“ I never did such a thing in my life,” Molly 
assured her. “ Can’t Mary do it ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Polly, dropping back from 
her knees until she sat on her heels ; “ anyway, 
she’s so cross I don’t dare ask her.” 

“ What makes your mother keep her if she’s so 
cross ? ” inquired Molly, leaning forward to blow 
the last spark which still lingered on the news- 
paper. 

“ Because she can’t get anything else,” answered 
Polly, unconsciously touching the key-note of the 
whole servant question. 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 115 


“Well,” remarked Molly, after a pause, while 
Polly again wrestled with the fire, “ we shall catch 
our deaths of cold here, Polly ; we may as well 
go to bed, for this isn’t going to burn to-night.” 

“ I’m sorry, Molly,” her hostess said penitently, 
as they went up-stairs after leaving a note on the 
table addressed to the doctor, and containing the 
simple but alarming statement: “Good night; 
we’ve gone to bed to keep from freezing.” 

“I don’t care a bit,” said Molly. “I like to 
talk after I’m in bed, and we shall have ever and 
ever so long before we get sleepy.” 

At breakfast, the next morning, the girls had to 
bear with much teasing from the doctor on the 
subject of their struggles, the evening before ; and, 
as he rose from the table, he suggested that they 
should ask Alan to give them a few lessons in 
making bonfires. 

“I shan’t be back to lunch,” he added, as he 
put his head through the dining-room door again ; 
“ but I’d like dinner on time to-night, surely, for I 
must go down to the hospital before my evening 
hour.” 

“ I’ll tell Mary,” said Polly, jumping up to fol- 
low him to the front door, as was her mother’s 
custom. 


116 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Now,” she continued, as she went back to the 
table, “ what let’s do all day ? ” 

Their plans were soon formed : a drive with J ob 
in the morning, for, of late, after many cautions, 
Polly had been allowed to drive the old creature ; 
and in the afternoon they would go to see Jean. 

“I wonder if Alan wouldn’t go with us, this 
morning,” said Polly. 

“ I think he’d like to,” answered Molly. “ He 
caught cold a week ago, and since then he’s been 
so stiff that he hasn’t been anywhere but just to 
school and back ; and I should think he would be 
glad to get away from Katharine. He says he 
gets so tired of her.” 

“We’ll ask him, then,” said Polly. “I think 
’twould be a good idea to start early, so I’ll go out 
to tell Mary about lunch, and have John harness 
right away.” 

She was gone for some time, and when she 
came back to Molly in the sitting-room, her face 
was flushed and her eyes were shining with an 
angry gleam. 

“ Why, Polly?” said Molly, raising her eyebrows 
inquiringly. 

“ It’s that horrid Mary ! ” responded Polly, cast- 
ing herself down on the sofa with unnecessary 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 117 


vigor. “ I don’t see what we are going to do, 
Molly Hapgood ; I’ve a good mind to send you 
right straight off home.” 

“ You’ve done it before now,” Molly began 
teasingly, but seeing the real trouble in her 
friend’s face, she relented and asked, “What’s 
gone wrong, Polly ? ” 

“It hasn’t gone, it’s only going,” answered 
Polly lugubriously. “ It’s Mary. She says mam- 
ma has been promising her a vacation for a long 
time, and that she’s going to take it now, for it’s 
such a good time when part of the family are 
away. I told her she mustn’t ; but she says she’s 
going to, or else she’ll go for good. I don’t dare 
let her do that, but whatever am I going to do, 
Molly ? She’s going right off now, and you’d bet- 
ter go home to stay.” And Polly rose and stalked 
tragically up and down the room, with her fingers 
buried in her curls. 

Molly surveyed her in pity; then she rose to 
meet the emergency like a heroine. 

“I’m not going to go home one single step, 
Polly,” she declared. “I’ll stay here and help you 
through with it.” 

“But you’ll starve, Molly,” remonstrated her 
hostess tearfully. 


118 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Nonsense!” responded Molly. “Now you 
just sit down and don’t go rushing round like 
this, and we’ll talk the matter over, and take an 
account of stock.” 

This was encouraging, and Polly felt her spirits 
coming up again. 

“Well?” she asked, as she seated herself on 
the sofa once more. 

“ In the first place,” said Molly, with a calmness 
born of inexperience, “ we’ll tell her to go. I have 
heard mamma say, often and often, that it’s easier 
to do the work yourself than to have a girl around 
that’s restless and wanting to be off all the time.” 

There was something so impressive in Molly’s 
manner, as she delivered herself of this sentiment, 
that Polly gazed at her with a new respect. She 
had never dreamed that her friend knew so much 
about housekeeping. 

“ And so,” Molly went on, “ we’ll just get rid of 
her and do the work ourselves. I’ve always been 
dying to try it, and this is a splendid chance. We 
won’t do much sweeping and dusting, for it will 
only be for a day or two — How long was she 
going to be gone, Polly ? ” 

“ A week,” answered Polly briefly. 

“ A whole week ! ” Molly’s face fell. Then she 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 119 


resumed, “ Well, we shall get on, in some way or 
other.” 

“We needn’t do much but get the meals and 
wash the dishes,” said Polly, with renewed cour- 
age. 

“We shouldn’t have time, if we wanted to,” 
returned Molly. “Now, Polly, the question is: 
how much do you know about cooking ? ” 

“ Not very much,” Polly confessed. “ I can boil 
eggs and make toast, and I have made coffee, once 
or twice, just for fun.” 

“ That’s good,” said Molly enthusiastically ; 
“you’re a treasure, Polly. I can do codfish and 
milk, and make molasses candy, and fry griddle- 
cakes. We shan’t have such a bad time, after 
all.” 

“We have ever so many cook-books,” suggested 
Polly. “ Can’t we do something with them ? ” 

“I’m afraid they’d be tough, unless we boiled 
them a good while,” giggled Molly. “ But really, 
Poll, we can work out of them ; try lots of new 
things, you know, to astonish your father. What 
does he like ? ” 

“Welsh rarebit,” responded Polly promptly; 
“ and baked macaroni, and lemon pudding, 
and — ” 


120 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Not too much, Polly ; we can’t do all that at 
once. We’ll try something new every meal. Oh, 
say! don’t let’s tell your father Mary has gone. 
We’ll have dinner all ready when he comes, and 
not let him know that we cooked it ourselves, 
until he’s eaten it. Then we’ll tell him and sur- 
prise him.” 

“Well,” assented Polly, with a vague misgiving 
that her father might discover the change of cook ; 
“I think it will be fun, Molly; and then, if we 
get hard up, there are plenty of crackers and pre- 
serves to fall back on.” 

“We shan’t want them,” said Molly scornfully. 
“ I know we shall have a great deal better things 
to eat than if Mary stayed. Servant girls are so 
unreliable ! ” she added, with a whimsical imitation 
of Aunt Jane’s manner. 

“ I’ll tell you one thing,” said Polly, with decis- 
ion, “we must not tell the girls or Alan, for if 
they knew about it, they would invite themselves 
to meals. If we cook for us three, that is all we 
can do.” 

“What if they come here to see us?” asked 
Molly. 

“ We’ll lock the door and hide,” replied Polly 
inhospitably. “ There are times when company is 


POLLY AND THE SERVANT QUESTION. 121 


a nuisance, — I don’t mean you, Molly, for you are 
head housekeeper, and I couldn’t get along with- 
out you. But come, we’ll go up and put our room 
in order, while we are waiting for her to get out of 
the way.” 

At this very moment Mrs. Adams, one hundred 
and fifty miles away, was congratulating herself 
that she had left her little daughter with such a 
competent servant who, though far from amiable, 
yet was quite capable of taking the entire charge 
of the house during her absence. Perhaps it was 
just as well that she was not within hearing of the 
conversation which the girls had just been holding. 


CHAPTER VII. 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 

“ I’m going now, miss,” remarked Mary’s voice 
at the foot of the front stairs. 

“ Go on, then,” said Polly, with dignity, turning 
to Molly to add, “She wouldn’t dare do that if 
mamma were here. Then she never thinks of 
calling to us, like this.” 

Peeping stealthily out at the front window, the 
girls watched, her as she walked off, dressed in her 
state and festival suit. Then they descended to 
the kitchen to survey their field of operations. 

“ She’s left it in splendid order, and there’s a hot 
fire ; that’s one good thing,” said Polly, lifting the 
stove lid to look in. 

“With a fire and a cook-book, we can work 
wonders,” said Molly. “ Now, Polly, let’s plan.” 

“ All right.” And Polly sat down on the wood- 
box. “What shall we have for lunch? That 
comes first.” 

“ I’ll tell you,” suggested Molly suddenly, as if 
struck with a brilliant idea ; “ let’s not have much 


122 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


123 


for lunch. Your father won’t be here, so we can 
eat up whatever was left over from breakfast, and 
have all our time for the dinner.” 

“ But ’tisn’t time to get dinner now ; it’s only 
eleven o’clock,” said Polly. 

“ Yes, it is time,” returned Molly. “ I want to 
try a lemon pudding for dessert, if he likes them, 
and it takes ever so much time, I know. We 
must feed him up well, so he won’t look thin to 
your mother when she gets back.” 

“ Let’s see how the oven is,” said Polly, pulling 
open the door and peering in. “ It feels nice and 
warm, so perhaps we’d better go to work.” 

“ Where are your cook-books ? ” demanded 
Molly. 

44 Here.” And Polly brought out a number of 
books and pamphlets. “We ought to find a rule 
in some of these.” 

Molly possessed herself of the largest. 

“ 4 Marion Holland’ — no, 4 Harland,’ ” she read. 
“Oh, I’ve heard of her! I’ll look in this, and 
you take another. Let’s see, where’s the index? 
4 Soups — fish — poultry — meats — company.’ Oh, 
where is it ? 4 Eggs — cake.’ That sounds like it. 

‘Servants — puddings.’ At last! 4 Apple — cot- 
tage — cracker — lemon.’ Plere are two lemon 


124 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


puddings, Polly.” And Molly glanced up to see 
Polly, with an anxious frown, reading intently from 
her own small book. She looked up, in her turn, 
to answer, — 

“Here’s another, so you read yours and then 
I’ll read mine, and we’ll see which we like best.” 

“ 4 One cup of sugar, four eggs, two tablespoons 
cornstarch, two lemons, one pint milk, one table- 
spoon butter,’ ” read Molly. “ You get your milk 
hot and put in the starch and boil five minutes — 
Oh, there’s a lot more to do ! Just see here.” 

Both heads were bent over the book. Then 
Polly exclaimed, — 

“Mine is easier, I know. Listen: ‘A quarter 
of a pound of suet, half a pound of bread crumbs, 
four ounces of sugar, the juice of two lemons, the 
grated rind of one, and one egg. Boil it well in 
an Agate pot, and serve with sauce.’ ” 

There was an expressive pause. 

“Yours is better, after all,” said Polly. “I 
don’t know what suet is, but I don’t believe we 
have any ; and besides, it’s ever so much easier to 
measure cups than pounds.” 

The girls enveloped themselves in gingham 
aprons and set to work. Polly rummaged in 
store-room and pantry, and brought out the neces- 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


125 


sary materials for the pudding, while Molly meas- 
ured and mixed. 

“ Polly,” she called suddenly, in a tone of distress. 

Polly put her head out from the pantry. Her 
face was decorated with coal-dust from the stove 
and flour from the barrel, but she was too intent 
upon her work to care for that. 

“Well,” she asked, “what’s the matter?” 

“There isn’t enough cornstarch,” said Molly, 
showing the empty paper. 

“How much more do you need?” asked Polly, 
looking rather blank. 

“Another spoonful,” replied Molly; “and the 
milk is all boiling now, ready for it.” 

“ I wish we had Alan here, to send for some,” 
sighed Polly. 

“There isn’t time. Don’t you suppose your 
mother has another package ? ” asked Molly, stir- 
ring the boiling milk in an excited fashion that 
sent occasional drops spattering and hissing over 
the stove. 

“ Perhaps she has.” And Polly hurried away to 
the store-room, jingling her keys with a comical 
air of consequence. 

She came flying back, in a moment, with a small 
package in her hand. 


126 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ I wonder if this won’t do just as well,” she 
said. 44 It’s marked elastic starch, instead of corn- 
starch, but it looks ever so much like the other, 
and it’s all there is, anyway.” 

Molly eyed it with little favor. 

44 It isn’t just the same,” she said thoughtfully ; 
44 but if we can’t get anything else, we may as well 
use it. Here goes, anyway.” And she added a 
heaping spoonful. 

The pudding was mixed, poured into a baking 
dish and set into the oven. 

44 There,” said Molly, with an air of relief, 
44 that’s done, all but watching to see that it 
doesn’t burn.” 

44 And clearing up the table,” sighed Polly. 44 It 
doesn’t seem as if we could have used so many 
dishes, just for one little pudding ; does it, 
Molly?” 

44 Never mind,” said Molly consolingly ; 44 when 
it’s done, we shall feel paid for it all. I don’t 
mind washing dishes. You put the sugar and 
stuff away, while I do them. I wish I felt sure 
about this other starch,” she added, taking up the 
paper and glancing at it. 

Polly’s back was turned, when she heard an 
exclamation of horror. Looking around, she saw 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


127 


Molly who, with the package still in her hand, had 
dropped into a chair. 

“ What is it ? ” she asked anxiously. 

“ See here ! ” And Molly pointed solemnly to 
the label, then burst into another fit of merriment, 
as she watched Polly’s face grow blank while she 
read aloud, — 

“ 4 Elastic Starch : Prepared for Laundry Pur- 
poses, only.’ ” 

“ Whatever do you suppose it will do to us ? ” 
asked Molly, struggling to regain her self-control, 
and then laughing harder than ever. 

“ Pm sure I don’t know,” answered Polly. “ It 
can’t kill us, but it may stiffen us up some. I 
wonder if we’d better try to eat it, Molly.” 

“ I’m not going to have all my work wasted,” 
said Molly decidedly, as she opened the oven door 
and peeped in. “ It’s browning just beautifully, 
and looks all right. We won’t say or think any- 
thing about it, and I don’t believe it will hurt us 
any. Even if it does, we have a doctor right in 
the house.” 

“ Unless it kills him, first of all,” added Polly 
gloomily. “ But I’m tired now, Molly ; we’ll have 
lunch while that is baking, and then we can rest 
till time to get dinner. I never supposed it was 
so much work to keep house.” 


128 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“What are you going to have for dinner?” 
asked Molly, ignoring the last remark. 

“ Beefsteak and potatoes and pudding,”, said 
Polly. “ That’s enough. We don’t want to begin 
better than we can keep up.” 

Their lunch was over, and the dishes piled up, 
to be washed later, when they should feel more 
like it ; the girls had made themselves presentable 
again after their labors, and were sunning them- 
selves like two young turtles, on the front steps, 
when they saw Alan coming towards the house. 

“ Now, Molly,” Polly cautioned her ; “ remember 
we aren’t going to tell that we are housekeeping.” 

“ What have you been doing with yourselves ? ” 
inquired Alan, as he sat down on the step below 
them and pulled his soft hat forward, to keep the 
dazzling sun out of his eyes. “ I came here just 
before noon, but I couldn’t start up anybody. 
Where were you ? ” 

“ How strange we didn’t hear you ! ” said Molly 
innocently. “ W e were here all the morning. 
Are you sure the bell rang ? ” 

“ I should say it did,” said Alan. “ I pulled it 
till I was tired. You must have been deaf, or 
asleep.” 

“We weren’t either; we were only just busy,” 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


129 


answered Polly, with an air of importance which 
would have roused Alan’s suspicions, had not 
Molly come to the rescue by asking about her 
cousins. 

“ They’re off driving, this afternoon,” answered 
Alan. “ They tried to make me go, but I told 
them flatly I didn’t want to, so they took Florence 
instead. I had to play casino with Kit all last 
evening, and that was all I could stand. I say, I’m 
going to stay to dinner over here, if you ask me to.” 

The girls exchanged glances of consternation 
which, happily, passed over the top of Alan’s head, 
and were unseen. 

“Well,” assented Polly, with some reluctance; 
“ you can stay, I suppose, but you won’t get much 
to be thankful for, I warn you.” 

“As long as you tease so hard,” responded Alan, 
disregarding the ^coolness of her tone ; “ I’ll stay, 
then. I told mother I knew you’d be in a fight, 
by this time, and need me to make peace, so she’d 
better not expect me till I came. Now, honestly, 
aren’t you glad to see me ? ” And he beamed up 
at the girls with such goodwill that they relaxed 
their severity, and took the lad into their confidence. 

“Now, Alan,” Molly began solemnly; “if you 
stay here, you mustn’t ever tell the other girls, but 


130 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Mary has gone, and Polly and I are doing the 
cooking ourselves.” 

Alan whistled ; but not even his whistle was as 
disrespectful as was his following remark, — 

“ Anything left over from yesterday that I can 
have ? ” 

“ You must behave, if you stay, Alan,” said Polly 
firmly. “ You can go home, or else you can go to 
work with us, when it’s time. I’ve told you before 
now that we won’t have any lazy people around 
this house.” 

“All right; what shall I do first?” And Alan 
pulled off his cuffs and folded back the bottoms of 
his sleeves. “ Hullo ! who’s this coming ? ” he ex- 
claimed, as a figure turned in at the gate. 

“ Why, it’s Mr. Solomon Baxter,” said Polly, in 
some surprise. “ How queer ! He never comes here.” 

“Perhaps he’s after your father,” suggested 
Molly, in an undertone. 

“ He must be,” answered Polly, as she rose to 
meet him ; “ but I should think he would know 
that papa’s at his office, not here.” 

Mr. Baxter was a widower of fifty, whose wife 
had recently died, leaving him with six children 
under ten years old. Whatever may have been 
the motives leading to the match, surely Mrs. Bax- 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


131 


ter could never have married her husband either 
for his personal beauty or for his repose of man- 
ner; for Mr. Baxter’s bald head was covered with 
a smooth yellow wig, and his figure presented 
every appearance of having its joints so tightly 
wired together that they could not play freely in 
their places, while it was a matter of common 
report that his nervous, excitable manner had wor- 
ried his wife until she was glad to be at rest. 

“ How do you do ? Is your aunt at home ? ” he 
answered Polly’s greeting. 

This was unexpected, but Polly reflected that 
they might be on some committee together. 

“I am sorry, but she and mamma were sent for 
to go to New York,” she explained courteously. 
“ Their brother is ill. Won’t you come in, sir?” 

“ Just for a little while, perhaps,” said Mr. Bax- 
ter, following her into the parlor. “If they’re 
away, who’s keeping house?” 

“We are, Molly Hapgood and I,” answered 
Polly, a little surprised at the question. 

“ A good girl ? ” 

Polly looked up in astonishment, thinking that 
he had taken that way of praising her. On the 
contrary, she discovered that this was intended as 
a question. 


132 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


44 What was it you said,” she asked. 

44 Have you a good girl ? ” 

44 We haven’t any,” replied Polly meekly; 44 ours 
went away this morning.” 

44 Just like them ! They’re the greatest plague 
in the world ! ” said Mr. Baxter explosively, and 
so rapidly that his words appeared to be tumbling 
over each other, in their haste to escape from his 
lips. “They haven’t any honor; mine went off 
yesterday, and I haven’t any to-day. She was a 
splendid girl with a great trunk full of real nice 
clothes, and such refined tastes, she always drank 
English breakfast tea. But she wouldn’t stay, 
because I would not let her have all the soap she 
wanted. Extravagant things ! ” Mr. Baxter sud- 
denly reined in his tongue ; then added abruptly, 
44 Who’s housekeeper generally, your mother or 
your aunt ? ” 

44 Mamma is,” replied Polly. 

44 Oh ! ” Mr. Baxter’s tone was rather annoyed. 

There was a prolonged pause, while Polly 
watched the clock and reflected that it was time 
to put on the potatoes. 

44 Are your children well ? ” inquired Molly po- 
litely, feeling that it was her duty to say some- 
thing. 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


183 


“ Quite well, only the baby has the croup almost 
every night. They have a great many colds, but 
I tell them that it’s good enough for them, and 
perhaps it may teach them to be a little more care- 
ful,” answered their fond parent sympathetically. 

“ I had a cold last winter,” remarked Alan, 
launching himself into the conversation with this 
bit of personal reminiscence. 

“ Oh,” said Mr. Baxter again. 

There was another pause, a long one this time. 
Polly broke it, for she saw that both Molly and 
Alan were on the point of laughing. 

“It is a beautiful day,” she began. “We were 
going to ride this morning with Job, but — ” She 
paused abruptly. Job had done conspicuous duty 
in Mrs. Baxter’s funeral procession, in fact, he 
had helped to bear the disconsolate widower and 
his children to her grave. Polly felt that further 
mention of him would be ill-timed. Mr. Baxter 
appeared to be pursuing his own train of thought. 

“ Is Miss Roberts well ? ” he asked, after another 
interval. 

“Very,” answered Polly. 

“ Not given to being sick much ? ” 

“ No, she is very strong.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Baxter, rising with an air of 


134 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


relief, “I must be going. Just tell your aunt, 
sissy, that I called on her. Where’s my hat?” 

He had mislaid it somewhere, and while he 
charged up and down the parlor looking for it, 
Alan and Molly prudently withdrew, to laugh un- 
seen. At length he discovered it in the hall, and 
went away, leaving the children to speculate vainly 
on the cause of his visit. 

“ Sissy ! ” exclaimed Polly violently. “ Sissy ! 
I wonder how he’d like me to call him hubby! I’ll 
try it, the next time he comes. But he stayed so 
forever that we sha’n’t have time to cook any pota- 
toes for dinner.” 

They surely would not, for the fire was out 
and the stove was cold. 

“Your poor father!” groaned Molly. “And 
we weren’t going to let him know that anything 
was wrong.” 

“Never mind,” said Polly; “we’ll give him just 
meat and pudding. That’s enough for any man.” 

They cheered up at that, and, with Alan’s help, 
they went to work to build a fire, making many 
discoveries during the operation about dampers 
and grates and their uses. But time, always unac- 
commodating, refused to wait for them, and six 
o’clock came far too soon, and brought the doctor 
in its train. 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


135 


Dr. Adams was rather perplexed when he went 
into the house and was met by no one at the door. 
Polly and her mother usually greeted him, but to- 
night the front of the house was deserted. 

“ The girls must be off somewhere,” he said to 
himself. “ Well, I’ll go out and tell Mary to give 
me my dinner now, without waiting for them.” 

He made his way to the kitchen, noting to his 
surprise, as he passed through the dining-room, 
that the table was only half set for the meal, and 
that the few articles on it had a little the appear- 
ance of having been thrown at it from a distance. 
Dr. Adams was an orderly, methodical man, and 
his wife’s careful housekeeping was quite to his 
liking. However, he reflected that, during her 
absence, there must and would be irregularities, 
and passed on to the kitchen. As he opened the 
door, he was met by a cloud of dense, bluish white 
smoke which brought the quick tears to his eyes. 
Through the thick air he could see, not the ample 
proportions of his usual cook, but three small fig- 
ures that were hurrying to and fro with a purpose- 
less, ineffectual bustle which yet accomplished 
nothing. One of the figures hailed him in discon- 
solate tones, — 

“ Oh, papa ! are you home so soon ? ” 


136 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ So soon ? ” he answered, as well as he could 
for coughing ; “ it’s six o’clock now. Is dinner 
ready ? What are you doing out here ? ” 

It took but a moment to explain the matter, and 
then the doctor showed that it was not without 
reason that Polly called him the best father in the 
world. He was just back from a long drive out 
into the country with a fellow doctor, to pass 
judgment upon a critical case ; he must visit a 
man in the hospital before his evening office hour ; 
he was tired, hungry, and in a hurry, and there 
was no immediate prospect of dinner. But the 
three weary, heated, crocky faces before him 
moved him to pity, and he threw open the outer 
door, sajdng briskly, — 

“ Let’s have a little air here, and see what’s the 
matter.” 

“ The fire won’t seem to burn,” said Alan. “ It 
just smokes and goes out.” 

“So I see,” said the doctor laughing. “Per- 
haps it would go better, my boy, if the dampers 
were not shut up tight. All it needs is a little 
draught, — see ? ” And in a moment there was a 
comfortable crackling sound going on inside the 
stove. 

Before his marriage, the doctor had been in the 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


137 


habit of camping out every summer, and his old 
experiences came to his aid in the present crisis. 
While the girls flew in to set the table, he quickly 
brought the fire into order, and cooked the meat 
as handily as a woman. Thanks to him, the sup- 
per proved a merry one in spite of the smoky 
dining-room, the meagre bill of fare, and the great 
white blister on the side of Alan’s hand, which 
the lad was doing his best to keep out of the doc- 
tor’s sight. Molly raised her eyebrows and darted 
a comical glance at Polly when the doctor asked 
for a second plate of the pudding, and it was not 
until long afterwards that the girls knew of the 
manful effort he had made to swallow the sticky 
compound. 

“ Can I do anything more to help you? ” he asked, 
stopping behind Alan’s chair as he was going away. 

“You’ve done enough already, I should think,” 
answered Molly gratefully. 

“ It was too bad for Mary to leave you in the 
lurch,” he replied. Then, as his eyes fell on 
Alan’s hand, he added, “ That’s a hard burn, my 
boy ! Why in the world didn’t you say something 
about it ? ” 

“ What was the use ? ” inquired Alan calmly. 
“ Grumbling about it wouldn’t do it any good.” 


138 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“No; but I could,” responded the doctor. “I 
like your pluck, but there’s no use making a 
martyr of yourself for nothing. Come into my 
den and let me put something on it.” And after 
a moment’s delay, he went striding away down the 
street, looking at his watch as he walked. 

“ How do people ever manage to keep house ? ” 
sighed Molly, an hour later. 

The dishes were washed, the rooms in order, 
and the two girls were luxuriously settled on the 
sofa, which they had drawn up in front of Alan’s 
blazing fire on the hearth. Alan himself was 
stretched out on the rug, with his yellow head 
resting against the seat of the sofa, beside Polly’s 
hand. Too tired to talk, the children had sat 
there quietly watching the fire until Molly broke 
the silence. 

“ I don’t see, I’m sure,” returned Polly. “ It 
never seems as if mamma did much, even when we 
haven’t any girl ; and I’m tired almost to death, 
with what little we’ve done.” 

“ I’m slowly getting to think,” said Molly re- 
flectively ; “ that our mothers are wonderful women. 
If it takes three of us to spoil one dinner, how do 
they get along, to do all the housekeeping and look 
out for us and sew and all ? ” 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


139 


“ Perhaps they know more to start with,” sug- 
gested Alan, ducking his head out of reach of 
Polly’s threatening fingers. 

“ If you hadn’t been and gone and burned your- 
self in our service, Alan,” she said, laughing, “ I 
would turn you out of the house.” 

But Molly was too much in earnest to heed this 
by-play. 

“ I believe I’ll learn to cook,” she went on. “ I 
don’t mean fancy cooking, but good, plain things 
that one could live on.” 

“ Why not go to cooking school ? ” asked Polly. 

“Yes,” rejoined Molly scornfully; “and learn 
to make chicken salad and angel cake and choco- 
late creams. That’s all very well, but I want to 
know how to do something that will help along, 
when we get in a tight place. Hark ! what’s 
that ? ” she added, as a sudden flurry of rain swept 
against the windows. 

“ That’s cheerful ! ” said Alan, starting up. “ I 
don’t care about getting a ducking. I wish I’d 
gone home before this.” 

“No matter,” urged Polly. “Stay till papa 
comes ; he’ll be in at nine, and then we’ll give you 
an umbrella and things.” 

“ Well.” And Alan threw more wood on the fire 


140 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


and then settled back into his former position ; 
“ I may as well, for 1 don’t believe it will rain any 
harder than it does now, and maybe it will stop. 
I say, Polly,” he went on ; “ tell us a story, there’s 
a good fellow.” 

“I’m too tired to-night, Alan,” Polly began; 
“ I haven’t an idea in my head and — Is that you, 
papa ? ” she called, as the front door opened and 
shut. 

“ No, it’s mamma,” and Mrs. Adams walked into 
the parlor. 

“Jerusalem!” and Polly sprang up with a glad 
cry. “ Wherever did you come from ? ” 

She was surrounded and dragged forward to the 
sofa, where Alan took her cloak, Molly her bon- 
net, and Polly pulled off her gloves. 

“This is delightful to be so waited on,” said 
Mrs. Adams. * It is worth while going away, to 
have the pleasure of coming back to my three 
children. Now come and sit down, and tell me 
all about it.” And with a girl at each side and a 
boy at her feet, she prepared to hear the story of 
their doings. 

“First, how is Uncle Charlie?” asked Polly, 
sure from her mother’s bright face that there was 
no bad news. 


POLLY’S HOUSEKEEPING. 


141 


“ It was a sudden attack of indigestion, and he 
was much better before we reached him ; but for 
a little while they thought there was no chance 
for him. Aunt Jane is going to stay for a week 
or two, but I was in a hurry to come back to my 
baby. And that reminds me, I stopped at your 
house, Alan, to tell your mother I had come and 
that Molly would stay here till Monday; and 
when I found that you were here, I said I should 
keep you, too, till morning. But now you must 
tell me how you’ve been amusing yourselves.’’ 

“ With cooking,” said Polly, with a tragic groan. 
“ Mary’s gone off for a week, and the fire went 
out, and Alan burned himself, and we nearly 
starved. I’m glad you’ve come back; oh, you 
can’t guess how glad ! ” 

By degrees they told the tale of their woes, not 
omitting the slightest detail, while Mrs. Adams 
leaned back on the sofa and laughed till the tears 
came. 

“But there’s one good thing about it all,” 
observed Molly, in conclusion. “We’ve had a 
perfectly dreadful time, but it will teach us to 
appreciate our mothers and know a little what 
they are doing, the whole time.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

HALLOWE’EN. 

“You have such a different way of looking at 
things from what mamma did,” said Katharine. 

“ Perhaps it is because we have lived so differ- 
ently,” Mrs. Hapgood answered her. 

It was a cold, gray day in late October, a day 
which showed that November was close at hand. 
The other girls were off for some frolic, Alan was 
reading and dozing on the sofa in the next room, 
so Mrs. Hapgood and Katharine had the parlor to 
themselves, and were snugly settled in two willow 
chairs drawn up in front of the fire, Katharine 
busy on a dainty bit of embroidery, Mrs. Hapgood 
putting a new sleeve into a gown which had 
yielded before Molly’s energetic elbows. 

“ I wonder if that is it.” And Katharine laid 
down her work and fell to pondering on the mat- 
ter. After a time, she resumed, “ After all, auntie, 
I don’t know but I like your way better. I thought 
at first it was going to be slow here. At home, 
there’s never any time for quiet talks like this; 

142 


HALLOWE’EN. 


143 


it’s just nothing but a hurry and a scrabble, and 
when we get through, we’ve nothing to show for 
it. I’ve only been here six weeks, but I really 
feel as if I know you now better than I do mamma.” 
And Katharine rested her head against the back 
of her chair, while the dark eyes fixed on the fire 
grew a little dim. 

Mrs. Hapgood leaned over and rested her hand 
on the girl’s, as it lay on the arm of her chair. 

“ I’m glad to have you say so, Katharine,” said 
she. “ For this year, I am to stand in place of a 
mother to you, you know, and I like to have you 
feel at home here.” 

“ I know all that,” answered Katharine ; “ and 
I’m glad they sent me here, only it mixes me all 
up. When I was at home and kept hearing little 
bits about it, the parties and the flowers and the 
pretty gowns, I felt as if I couldn’t wait to be old 
enough to be in it all. When I came away, mamma 
said I was to be here a year, and then go home to 
come out, so I could be ready to be married at 
eighteen, as she did. A year is such a little while 
to wait that I thought I was almost there. But 
when I came here, I found the girls of my age act- 
ing like children, and having splendid times doing 
what I had always thought was silly, and not car- 


144 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


ing the least bit about society and all that. I 
shall just get used to this and like it, and then go 
back into the other once more.” 

“ But not in just the same way, I hope.” 

“ I suppose not, auntie ; but it won’t make so 
very much difference, after all.” 

“ Perhaps not,” her aunt answered ; “ but it 
may make a little. If you hadn’t come to us, you 
would never have seen the other side, that there 
are a few good times outside of the parties and the 
young men. And even if you go back into it 
when you go home, as you probably will, Katha- 
rine, it won’t do any harm for you to have had 
a year to stop and think, and talk matters over, 
before plunging into the 4 scrabble,’ as you call it.” 

“It seemed so queer, when I first came East,” 
said Katharine, as she took up her work again, “ to 
see you and Molly sit down and talk for an hour 
at a time. Mamma hasn’t ever done it with us, 
only to joke with us, or ask about our lessons once 
in a while. But everything that comes up, Molly 
and Polly Adams say, ‘Mamma says so,’ or ‘Mam- 
ma thinks so.’ ” 

She sewed steadily for a few moments, then she 
broke off, to ask v with an air of mock tragedy, — 

“ Mamma says she wants me to marry at eigh- 


HALLOWE’EN. 


145 


teen ; but what in the world should I do, auntie, if 
nobody should ask me ? ” 

“Not get married, I suppose,” returned her aunt 
composedly. 

Katharine’s face fell. 

“ What ! be an old maid, like Polly’s Aunt 
Jane ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ It isn’t necessary that you should be like her, 
even if you shouldn’t marry.” And Mrs. Hap- 
good laughed at the horror in Katharine’s tone. 
Then she went on, seriously, 44 Katharine, may I 
talk very plainly with you, just as if you were 
really my daughter ? ” 

44 Please do, auntie.” And Katharine drew her 
chair a little closer to her aunt’s. 

44 You were just saying that your mother and I 
look at things differently, Katharine, and it is true 
that we do. I wouldn’t find fault with her for any- 
thing, for she has been a dear, good sister to me ; 
but it seems to me that she has made a little bit 
of a mistake in letting your head get filled with all 
these thoughts of being married. You are only a 
child yet, my dear, and it is years before such 
ideas ought to come to you. But now they are 
here, I am going to tell you just what I think 
about it all. Not all women are fitted to marry ; 


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HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


some would be happier and better without it. 
The day is long past when a woman must either 
marry or be laughed at as an old maid. What I 
want my girls to do is to grow into strong, noble 
women who are fitted to fill any position that 
opens before them, and to fill it well, with no 
thought of self, but only for the good of others. 
Then, if the time ever comes that you are asked 
to be the wife of a man, for the sake of whose 
love and companionship you are ready to give up 
all else, then you will do right to marry him, but 
not until then.” 

There was another pause. Mrs. Hapgood went 
on, — 

“And since we are on the subject, Katharine, 
there is one more word to say. If the time ever 
comes for you, remember, in making your great 
decision, that married life is not all sunshine, but 
that there are the same little every-day worries 
after marriage as there were before. If a woman 
is strong enough to be a true, devoted wife, she can 
have no happier, better life than in her own home. 
But she has no right to promise without thinking 
it all over, whether she can sacrifice and work, 
can suffer hardship and even wrong for her hus- 
band’s sake. Those are solemn words, dear, and 


HALLOWE’EN. 


147 


should never be spoken thoughtlessly : 4 For bet- 
ter for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness 
and in health — ’ ” 

“You make it all mean so much more than 
mamma did,” said Katharine thoughtfully. “ She 
never talked to me like this. You make me half 
afraid of it, auntie.” 

“ So much the better,” her aunt replied. u It 
isn’t anything that you can do one day, and undo 
the next ; but it is a matter of life — and death,” 
she added, as if to herself. Then she went on, 
with an entire change of tone, “ Now, Kit, we have 
been talking about a very serious matter, and I 
am nearly through. But we may never speak of 
it again, so before we leave it, I want to just say 
that I wish you could put this whole subject out 
of your head for years, until the great question 
comes to you, — better still, if it had never been 
put into your head in the first place. However, 
that mischief is done. Still, try as hard as you 
can, for this year at least, to forget all about it. 
Then, if you must remember it at all, remember 
it as we have spoken of it, a serious question 
which must be settled between you and your 
conscience. In the meantime, do the very best 
you can to develop yourself into a helpful woman, 


148 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


ready for any call that may come. Your call 
will come, in one way or another, and all you 
have to do is to be prepared to answer ‘ready.’ 
And the grand secret of this preparation lies in 
perfect unconsciousness of self. It is all hidden 
in you, Kit, if you only try to make the most of 
it. And now I shouldn’t at all wonder if we were 
better friends than ever for this frank talk, should 
you?” 

The girl did not speak, but, bending over, she 
kissed her aunt impulsively and left the room. 

“The child is finding her soul at last,” said 
Mrs. Hapgood to herself. “ Kate had smothered 
it and buried it under her false ideas of woman- 
hood; but it is there, and Katharine might so 
easily make a woman to be proud of, with her 
warm, loving nature, if only she could be kept out 
of the ‘scrabble’ for a few years longer. Well, 
my son, what is it? ’’she added aloud, as Alan 
came in, yawning and stretching, and dropped 
into the chair just vacated by Katharine. 

“Nothing, only I’m sick of reading, and came 
in for my share in the talk. Has Kit gone ? ” 

“ She just went up-stairs,” answered his mother, 
surveying her boy with fond pride, for, in alb truth, 
Alan was good to look at as he sat there, a real 


HALLOWE’EN. 


149 


bonnie boy who might gladden any mother’s heart. 
Mother-like, she passed a caressing hand over his 
yellow hair, and straightened out his’ coat-collar, 
but she only said, “ Alan, you are positively grow- 
ing tall, every single day.” 

“Am I?” asked the boy absently. Then he 
went on. “ Speaking of Kit, mother, has it struck 
you that she is leaving off a little of her airs and 
graces ? She isn’t near as silly as she was when 
she first came.” 

“I don’t think Katharine is silly,” his mother 
replied ; “ it is only a little way she has. You are 
too critical of her, Alan.” 

“Well, she makes me tired,” responded the boy, 
rolling up his eyes at his mother, whose deep- 
seated objection to that phrase he well knew. 
“ She wants to be the very middle of things when 
we’re together, and must have just so much fuss 
made over her. She’d be well enough, if it wasn’t 
for that.” 

“ Katharine has a great deal of character, after 
all,” said his mother. “You aren’t quite fair to 
her, Alan. If Polly or Florence did the same 
things she does, you would think it was all right.” 

“Polly and Kit aren’t to be spoken of in the 
same breath,” answered Alan energetically. “Flor- 


150 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


ence doesn’t count, one way or the other ; but 
Polly is a splendid girl, and about the best friend 
I have. She always fights for me, and it would 
be mean if I didn’t return the compliment once 
in a while. Here comes Mrs. Adams now,” he 
added, as he glanced out of the window. 

It was only an errand, not a call, she hurriedly 
explained. Friday night was going to be Hal- 
lowe’en, and wouldn’t Alan and the girls come 
over to celebrate, as a surprise to Polly? Jean 
and Florence would be there, too. Then she went 
away again, leaving Alan to discuss the matter 
with his mother. 

Friday evening came, and the surprise was kept 
a profound secret. Mrs. Adams had called Polly 
up-stairs to try on a new gown which she had just 
finished, and Polly was still revolving in front of 
the mirror, making vain attempts to view her 
back, when the bell rang. 

“ You go down, Polly,” said her mother. “ I 
am all covered with basting-threads.” 

So Polly, in all the glory of her new gown, 
went running down the stairs to the door, and 
started back in astonishment as her six guests 
came solemnly marching into the house, dressed 
in their best, to do honor to the occasion. 


HALLOWE’EN. 


151 


44 Why, what are you doing here?” she was 
beginning rather inhospitably, when her mother 
unexpectedly came to her relief and invited the 
girls to take off their things. 

44 We’re a party, Polly,” exclaimed Jessie. 
44 How stupid you are not to see it ! ” 

“It’s Hallowe’en,” added Florence; 44 and we’ve 
been asked to come to celebrate it.” 

44 Oh-h-h ! ” And a new light dawned on Polly. 
“It’s a surprise party, is it? Who started it? 
You, Jerusalem?” 

“Why don’t you take your little friends into 
the parlor and converse with them, Polly ? ” asked 
Aunt Jane’s prim voice. 44 Don’t you know that 
it isn’t polite to leave them standing here?” 

A sharp reply was trembling on the tip of 
Polly’s tongue; but she caught her mother’s 
warning glance, so she resolutely turned her back 
on the blue satin bow which Aunt Jane had 
donned for the party, and led the way into the 
parlor. 

Then the fun began, for Mrs. Adams had stud- 
ied to find all the amusing tricks, whether they 
belonged to Hallowe’en or not. She was the 
gayest of the gay, entering into all the frolic, and 
doino* her best to make Aunt Jane unbend and 

o 


152 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


have a share in the games. But there must be a 
skeleton at every feast, and Miss Roberts played 
the part to perfection, sitting back against the 
wall, and only smiling indulgently, now and then, 
as the room rang with the shouts of the young 
people. It all started with a tub and a plate of 
apples which mysteriously appeared in the dining- 
room, and soon they were all in a kneeling circle 
around the tub, bobbing for the apples, that took 
a malicious delight in ducking under the water 
and rolling away, just as the white teeth were 
ready to seize the stem. The captured apples 
were only just pared and the seeds counted, when 
Mrs. Adams called them away to try their fate on 
one single apple which hung by a string from the 
top of the room. 

“ It is an unfailing test,” she said. “ If you can 
take a bite out of this apple without touching it, 
except with your teeth, you will live to get mar- 
ried. Otherwise, you will die an old maid.” 

Now, it sounds like a very easy matter to bite 
an apple ; but when it is free to swing this way 
and that as you touch it, the successs is not so 
sure. Alan first chased the apple up and down, 
gnashed his teeth and retired. Next Florence 
took her turn, with no better success. Jessie, too, 


HALLOWE’EN. 


153 


failed to get a taste, even of the skin. Then Jean 
advanced to the charge. 

“Now watch,” she said, laughing. “I’m going 
at this on scientific principles. See here ! ” 

She hit the apple with such force as to throw it 
far up and out, waited with wide-open mouth 
until, pendulum-like, it swung back and, at the 
instant of its reaching her, before it had turned, 
she struck her strong, young teeth into the side 
and brought away a generous mouthful. 

“ There ! ” said she triumphantly, as she marched 
back to her place. “ I defy anybody to do better 
than that.” 

They melted lead and poured it into water, to 
learn from the shape as it cooled the secret of 
their future work ; they floated needles on water, 
watching them sink, or swim and gather in 
groups ; they roasted nuts in the ashes, and tried 
the old, old test of the three dishes of water 
But the prettiest trick of all was one that brought 
them back to the great tub once more, to float 
the walnut-shell boats, with their burning candles 
fixed in each. As the girls took their pairs of 
shells, one with a pink, the other with a blue 
candle placed in the middle like a mast, it was 
curious to see the difference in their ways of 


154 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


launching them on this mimic ocean of life. Jean 
and Jessie dropped theirs in thoughtlessly, only 
intent on the fun of the moment. Florence put 
hers in daintily and with care not to wet her 
fingers, and Molly and Katharine launched theirs 
out boldly, following them up with a little ripple 
which sent them rocking away into the midst of 
the tiny fleet. But Polly, Polly who did not 
believe in signs, had an anxious pucker about her 
eyebrows as she started out her wee vessels, and 
hurried them on their way with a mighty splash 
which threatened to capsize them, there and 
then. 

Mrs. Adams stood back, watching the group of 
bright-colored gowns and eager faces, as the young 
people gathered more closely about the tub to see 
the fate of their lights, now exclaiming in chorus 
at some crisis, now in anxious silence while they 
waited for new developments. 

“ My light has failed, first of all,” said Katharine 
regretfully. 

“Which is it?” asked Mrs. Adams. 

“ The pink one.” 

“ That is the man,” she answered, bending over 
to look at the poor little end of candle, with only 
a smouldering wick to show that any life was left. 


HALLOWE’EN. 


155 


“It may come up again, Kit,” said Florence 
consolingly. “ While there’s life, there’s hope.” 

“They are alive as long as they float,” Mrs. 
Adams interpreted. “ When they sink, they are 
dead; but this one is only ill, or else his plans 
have failed.” 

“ That’s almost as bad,” said Jean. “ But isn’t 
this just like Florence? Her two have cuddled 
up side by side, and are blazing away in a corner, 
all by themselves.” 

“Look at Polly’s and mine,” said Molly. “We 
have joined hands. We must be going to live 
together, all four of us.” 

“In a New York tenement house,” suggested 
Alan unkindly. 

“No such thing,” returned Polly. “ Molly shall 
keep house, and I’ll board with her. I hope my 
man will be proprietor of a restaurant, though,” 
she added, in an aside to Alan. 

Suddenly there came a wail from Jessie. 

“ Girls, girls ! Just look at mine ! ” 

“ Where are they ? ” asked Molly. 

“ Here.” And Jessie pointed tragically to one 
side of the tub, where the blue candle lay 
at the bottom of the sea, and the pink one, 
though still floating above it, had burned out 


156 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


and tilted to one side in an attitude of profound 
dejection. 

“ 1 Where was Moses when the light went out ? 

Where was Moses, what was he about?’” 

sang Alan teasingly. 

But even while he was singing, an energetic 
wave from Jean’s side overturned his own small 
ships and left them floating bottom upwards. 

44 Just my luck ! ” he remarked, as he rose. 44 1 
knew I should come to some untimely end. As 
Poll says, I don’t believe in signs, anyway.” 

The chocolate and wafers had been passed, and 
the fateful loaf of cake had been cut, bringing 
the ring to Florence, and the thimble, fitting sym- 
bol of single blessedness, to Jean ; and still there 
was time for a little more of the fun. Some one 
suggested a game of forfeits, and a pile of them 
was soon collected, to be held over the head of 
Jessie who was chosen judge, as being the youngest 
girl present. Her ingenuity was endless, and she 
kept them laughing over her ridiculous fines, until 
nearly all had been redeemed. 

44 Only two or three more,” said Jean encourag- 
ingly. 44 Here’s one of them, now.” 

44 Fine or superfine ? ” 

44 Fine.” 


HALLOWE’EN. 


157 


“ Fine ? Let’s see, I know whose ’tis,” meditated 
Jessie. “Oh, I haven’t any ideas left! Let him 

‘ Bow to the wittiest, 

Kneel to the prettiest, 

And kiss the one he loves best.’ ” 

Like most sensible mothers, Mrs. Adams had a 
horror of anything like kissing games; and now 
she frowned a little, in spite of herself. No one 
of the V, she felt sure, would have pronounced 
this fine. She turned to glance at Alan who stood 
for a moment, blushing as his eye moved over the 
group. Then he walked up to Polly and bowed 
low, passed on to Katharine’s chair where he 
dropped on one knee, and then, walking straight 
to Mrs. Adams, he bent down and kissed her 
cheek with a heartiness which was not all play. 
She put out her hand and drew him down on the 
sofa, at her side. 

“ Thank you, dear,” she whispered. “ It was a 
pretty compliment, and we old people enjoy such 
things, you may be sure.” 

“ It was true,” said Alan simply, as he settled 
himself beside her with a confiding, little-boyish 
motion. 

The last forfeit had not been redeemed, when 
the heavy portidres swung open, and a figure 


158 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


swathed in dark draperies and with a veil over 
her face came slowly into the room. The girls 
gazed doubtfully at this ghostly apparition, till 
a brown hand was extended and a deep voice 
spoke from under the veil, — 

“I am here to reveal the future. To-night is 
the time to know the secret of your coming lives. 
Let the oldest advance first.” 

Katharine, still a little in awe of the mysterious 
stranger, stepped forward and laid her hand on 
the dark one before her. The being scanned it 
closely. 

“ A long life,” she said, “ and a happy one, for 
you will slowly learn the joy of doing good to 
those around you and forgetting yourself for 
others. Then, wherever you go, you will be 
surrounded with friends and your name will long 
be remembered.” 

Katharine smiled, as she stepped back and Jean 
took her place. 

“You will have the best possession the earth 
can give, a contented mind. I see in the future a 
little house presided over by a strong, quiet woman 
whose life is in her home.” 

Then Molly’s turn came. Her fate was quickly 
spoken. 


HALLOWE’EN. 


159 


“ Yours is a husband six feet tall, and your 
children will number nineteen, as they sit about 
your meagre table.” 

Molly groaned, as she yielded her place to 
Florence. 

“ I see a lordly house, richly furnished and filled 
with servants. Within is a devoted husband who 
watches over a wife with golden hair.” 

44 How elegant ! ” said Polly. “ Now it’s my 
turn.” And she held out her hand with a smile. 

“ You will suffer much and have much happi- 
ness,” the voice went on. “You will love deeply 
and be loved in return, and the end will more 
than repay the beginning.” 

“ Isn’t that queer ! ” And Polly withdrew, to 
ponder on her mystical fortune. 

“Now Jessie,” said Mrs. Adams; “see what 
fate has in store for you.” 

“ I’m half afraid,” she said, laughing. 

“ Love, happiness, and sunshine,” was what she 
heard. “ A tiny cottage simply furnished with a 
teapot and eleven cats.” 

There was a shout. 

“Now, Alan.” 

The brown hand trembled a little, and the eyes 
under the veil looked right into Alan’s, as she spoke. 


160 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


44 Some pain, much joy ; a slow, even growth 
into a glorious manhood that knows no wrong, but 
lives for truth. Whatever else may be is hidden 
from my sight.” 

44 What a splendid one, Alan ! ” exclaimed Polly, 
her face flushing, as she took in all the meaning 
of the words. 

And Katharine added quietly, — 

“You have read us very well, Aunt Ruth.” 

“Mamma?” exclaimed Molly and Alan, in a 
breath. 

44 Yes, mamma,” answered Mrs. Hapgood’s voice, 
as she quickly shed her wrappings. 44 1 thought I 
would have a finger in this pie, too. But how did 
you know me so soon, Katharine ? ” 

44 1 knew nobody else would say what you did, 
for it was just a part of our talk the other day,” 
she replied, as she unpinned the thick veil from 
Mrs. Hapgood’s hair. 

44 Good-night, Mrs. Adams,” said Jean, as they 
stood grouped about her in the hall. 44 This has 
been a lovely Hallowe’en, and I shall always 
remember it, I know.” 

44 1 hope you will, too, till next year,” added 
Alan suggestively, as he went out into the bright 
starlight. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 

“The beautiful summer of All Saints ” was at its 
height, and the soft haze lay upon the blue hills 
and rested lightly over the meadows along the 
river. Such days were tempting enough to entice 
a hermit from his cell, and Mrs. Adams and the 
young people had agreed to devote Saturday after- 
noon to a long drive. Soon after their early 
lunch they had started off, Job leading the way, 
with Mrs. Adams, Jessie, Molly, and Jean, fol- 
lowed by Cob, the wiry little mustang that Mr. 
Shepard had sent East for his daughters’ use, 
drawing Katharine, Florence, Polly, and Alan. 
Their destination was the nearer of the two moun- 
tains, a drive to the foot and then a scramble to 
the tip-top house, for the sake of one last look 
down upon the beautiful valley, before winter 
should shut it in. Unfortunately, Job was in 
one of his languid moods that day, and in spite 
of warning checks and flapping of lines, and even 
a mild application of the whip, he refused to break 

1G1 


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HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


into a trot ; but, with bowed head and discouraged 
mien, he plodded onward with as much apparent 
effort as if each motion of his aged frame were to 
be his last. In vain Katharine again and again 
reined in Cob, to wait for his companion ; the old 
horse lagged farther and farther in the rear. At 
length Mrs. Adams called, — 

“ This is unbearable, Katharine ! I am afraid we 
shall have to give up and go home. Job acts 
as if he couldn’t crawl another step. I’m sorry,” 
she added to her passengers, “to spoil our plan, 
but I dare not drive this old fellow any further, 
for fear he might never get home.” 

But even the turning back again failed to inspire 
Job as it usually did. In her secret heart, Mrs. 
Adams regarded this as an ominous s}miptom, and 
felt an ever-increasing anxiety lest he should never 
reach home alive. They were less than two miles 
from the town, but it was a long hour before Job 
dragged his weary way up the street, in at the 
gate, and tottered feebly up to the open door of the 
barn. By making little side excursions up and 
down the country, the other carriage had managed 
to keep respectfully in the rear; and Katharine 
now tied Cob outside the gate, while the others 
crowded around Job to watch with pitying eyes, 


THE NEW HEADING CLUB. 


163 


as Mrs. Adams unharnessed this feeble veteran 
who had probably gone on his final march. The 
last strap was unbuckled and allowed to fall to 
the ground, while Mrs. Adams invitingly held up 
the worn old halter, to slip it on Job’s nose. Per- 
haps she was slower than usual, perhaps some 
sudden thought of a neglected opportunity shot 
through Job’s brain. However that might be, 
there was a quick scattering of the group, as two 
iron-shod heels flew up into the air, the brown 
head was playfully tossed from side to side, and 
Job, the feeble, the lifeless, went frisking away 
across the lawn, now galloping furiously up and 
down, with a lofty disregard of the holes he was 
tearing in the soft, dry turf, now stopping to roll 
on his back and kick his aged legs ecstatically in 
the air, with all the joyous abandonment of a young 
colt, then scrambling up again, to go pounding 
away, straight across a brilliant bed of chrysan- 
themums and only pausing, for a moment, to gaze 
pensively out over the front gate. 

“Whoa, Job! Whoa, boy!” Mrs. Adams was 
calling in vain, while Jean exclaimed spitefully, — 

“ Mean old thing ! I’ll never be sorry for him 
again! I didn’t lean back all the time we were 
gone, but just sat on the very front edge of the 


164 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


seat and tried to make myself as light as I 
could.” 

Then followed an exciting chase, for Job ap- 
peared to have regained all the agility of his 
far-off ancestors that roamed the plains at their 
own sweet will. Such sudden wheelings! Such 
wild leaps ! Such frantic kicks ! He refused to 
be coaxed ; he cocked up his ears in derisive 
scorn when they scolded him and requested him 
to whoa. He had no intention of whoaing. He 
recognized from afar that a snare lay hidden 
somewhere in the measure of oats which Mrs. 
Adams held out before him, and he drew back 
his lips in a contemptuous smile, as he capered 
away to the remotest corner of the grounds. The 
pursuit lasted for an hour, and at the end of that 
time, Job appeared to be far fresher than his pur- 
suers, fresher even than he had been at the start. 

It was plain that nothing was to be gained in 
this way, so Mrs. Adams and the girls retired 
to the house to take counsel, leaving Alan to 
drive Job to the stable, and come back to dinner 
with the others. 

“ I am tired, if he isn’t,” sighed Mrs. Adams, 
dropping into a chair by the window overlooking 
the lawn. 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


165 


“ Has he ever done it before ? ” asked Florence 
sympathetically. 

“Never with me; but he used to get away 
from John, when he was younger. Now he has 
started, I am afraid he will repeat the experiment, 
he has had such a good time to-day. It just 
makes me want to whip him ! ” And Mrs. 
Adams glared out at the unconscious Job who 
was quietly cropping a tuft of green grass. 

It may be that the stolen fruit was not so 
sweet to his tongue as Job had expected, or his 
conscience may at length have begun to act once 
more. He slowly raised his head and gazed long- 
ingly up and down the street, as if yearning to 
try a wider field for his gymnastics. Then appar- 
ently his sense of duty carried the day for, turn- 
ing reluctantly, he plodded away to the open 
stable door, and quietly marched into his accus- 
tomed place. 

“ Run, Polly, quick ! Run and fasten the 
door ! ” her mother exclaimed, as she hurried away 
to tie up the prodigal, to prevent any fresh wan- 
derings. 

When the doctor came home to dinner and 
heard the story, he was merciless in his teasing. 

“ One woman, six girls, and one boy, all to be 


166 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


outwitted by one poor old horse twenty-nine years 
old ! ” he exclaimed. 

“Now, that’s not so!” interposed his wife. 
“Job isn’t but twenty-three, so don’t put any 
more years on his devoted head.” 

Dr. Adams laughed. He took a sinful pleasure 
in reminding his wife of Job’s advanced age. 

“ Twenty-nine last June,” he said, as he gave 
Polly her second piece of meat. “ If you are care- 
ful of him and keep him for a few years longer, 
you can sell him out at a high price, to be ex- 
hibited as a curiosity.” 

“Sell Job! Never!” protested Mrs. Adams. 
“ I would almost as soon sell Polly. No money 
could ever make up for that old fellow’s intelli- 
gence, and for the real love he gives me.” 

“Yes,” added Alan sympathetically; “and no 
money could buy his obedience to you, this after- 
noon, when he was loose.” 

While the table was being cleared for the 
dessert, the doctor suddenly turned to his daughter. 

“Well, Polly,” he asked; “how comes on the 
reading club ? ” 

“ Finely, papa. Why ? ” 

“ I didn’t know but you were tired of it, by 
this time, and wanted something else.” 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


167 


“ Oh, no ; we have such good times,” said Jean 
enthusiastically. “And if we gave it up, you 
never would get your stockings darned, either.” 

“ Oh ! ” And the doctor lapsed into silence. 

“What made you ask, papa? ” inquired Polly. 

“ Mere curiosity.” 

“ I know better than that,” she said, seizing his 
hand as it lay on the table. “Now, popsy Adams, 
you just tell us what you are driving at.” 

“What is the use?” asked the doctor provok- 
ingly. “I did have another plan; but if you 
are all satisfied, I’ll offer it to some of the other 
girls, or perhaps Aunt Jane will take it in 
charge.” 

This was too much for Polly. 

“Do tell us,” she begged. “We’ll do it too, 
whatever it is ; won’t we girls ? ” 

“But what if it is something that isn’t funny 
at all, something for which you have to give up 
your own good times ? ” 

Polly’s face fell, but she answered steadily, — 

“ We’ll do it, just the same.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so,” remarked Aunt 
Jane approvingly. “ I have felt that it was high 
time you girls were made to take an interest in 
something really useful.” 


168 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“What is it, Dr. Adams?” implored Jessie, 
whose curiosity was by this time fired. 

“Well, it’s just this: down in the hospital 
there’s a girl about Katharine’s age shut up in 
a room by herself, where she must stay a year. 
She isn’t pretty ; she isn’t especially bright ; she 
is an Irish girl from one. of the hill towns in the 
northern part of the state. But she has some- 
thing the matter with her back, so all she can do 
is to lie there on a sort of frame, and look at the 
wall of her room.” 

The doctor paused. While he had been talk- 
ing, he had watched the faces of the girls, curious 
to see the effect which his short story would have 
on them. Polly’s cheeks were flushed, Jean’s 
eyes were shining with her interest, but Katha- 
rine’s lashes drooped on her cheek, and were a 
little moist. He nodded approvingly to himself, 
as he looked at her. 

“ Go on, papa,” urged Polly. 

“There isn’t much more to say,” returned her 
father, resting his arm on the back of her chair. 
“ It occurred to me to-day to wonder if you girls 
couldn’t each of you take a day a week, — there 
are just the six of you, you know, — and run in to 
see her for a few minutes after school. She is 


THE NEW HEADING CLUB. 


169 


perfectly well, except for her back, and you can 
imagine how dull it must be for her there. Now, 
suppose you could drop in for half an hour and 
get acquainted with her, or read something simple 
to her? She’s not up to 4 Pilgrim’s Progress’ 
yet.” And he pinched Polly’s cheek playfully. 

He stopped again. This time there was a mur- 
mur of assent from his hearers. Then he re- 
sumed, — 

“Now, talk this over among yourselves and see 
what you think of it. I don’t say you ought to do 
it, remember; you all have a good deal to do, I 
know. I only suggest the chance to you. I 
would think of it well, for unless you could be 
regular, it might be worse than nothing, for she 
would come to depend on it, and be disappointed. 
I warn you, she isn’t very attractive, she is only ill 
and lonely.” 

“ What’s her name ? ” asked Florence, as the 
doctor started to leave the table. 

“ Bridget O’Keefe.” 

“What!” And in spite of herself, Jessie 
wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“ Yes, I told you she was Irish, you know,” 
answered the doctor briskly. ‘‘Now I must be off. 
Think it over till Monday and then let me know.” 


170 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


And a moment later, the front door shut behind 
him. 

Aunt Jane went out after dinner, and Mrs. 
Adams made an excuse to leave the girls to them- 
selves. Gathered around the parlor fire, they had 
an animated discussion, and, with many a practical 
suggestion from Alan, their plan of work was 
agreed upon. Each was to take her own day, and 
give up half an hour after school to a call on this 
other girl, who was condemned to lie still and 
know that the world was going on around her 
just as usual. There was np difficulty in planning 
for the first five days of the week ; but the girls, 
though fired with a desire to do good, yet drew 
back from pledging themselves to break into their 
Saturday afternoons, the one holiday of the 
week. 

“ What’s the use of going Saturday ? ” said 
Florence. “ If we go to see her every other day 
but that, it ought to be enough.” 

“I don’t want any half-way work,” said Jean 
decidedly, “ and yet, it does seem too bad to upset 
our fun when we’ve always been together. What 
if we draw lots for it ? ” 

But Alan objected. 

“That’s kind of a shirky way to do. If I’m 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


171 


ever ill, I don’t want yon drawing lots which shall 
go to my funeral. I’ll go Saturday, myself.” 

“You can’t, Alan; you aren’t a girl,” said Molly. 

“No,” added Katharine, as she leaned over to 
lay her small, slim hand on his ; “ the boy can’t 
go, but he can teach the girls a lesson in gener- 
osity. I’ll take Saturday myself, girls.” 

Alan turned to her impulsively. 

“Good for you, Kit!” he said warmly. “I’m 
proud to have you for a cousin.” 

Katharine laughed lightly. 

“ It’s nothing, after all. I have more time than 
most of you, and it’s only a little while, anyway.” 

It was only a little thing, as Katharine had said, 
but by it she gained far more than the one short 
half-hour a week would ever cost her ; and, too, 
from that time onward, Alan looked on his cousin 
with a new admiration which her beauty and her 
attempts to win his liking could never have 
brought. 

The girls entered into their work heartily, 
charmed by the novelty of their experiment. 
It was an unknown sensation to them to feel 
sure that some one was eagerly listening for their 
step in the outer room, to see the dull, plain face 
before them brighten with a new life, as they 


172 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


came through the door. For the first few weeks, 
they begged to be allowed to prolong the half- 
hour ; but the doctor, mindful of the fate of “ Pil- 
grim’s Progress,” and knowing that a reaction 
would probably come, checked their zeal, and only 
encouraged their shorter visits. How much good 
they did to their young patient, they never knew. 
The healthy, out-of-door atmosphere which they 
brought in, their scraps of news, and their gay 
chatter did as much to brighten the rest of the 
long, lonely days, as the one or two pictures they 
brought did towards beautifying the plain, white 
walls of the little room where Bridget was learn- 
ing her lesson of patience. Still less did they 
realize how much they themselves were gaining 
from the quiet half-hour in the corner of the great 
hospital. The little self-sacrifice, the interest in 
this girl so far removed from their usual world, 
their girlish desire to gain her liking, and the 
womanly tact which was needed to win her from 
her rough shyness, all these had their influence 
on their young maidenhood, an influence which 
lasted far on through their lives. 

And by degrees their interest widened. At 
first they had shrunk from the suffering around 
them, dreading and almost fearing to look on its 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


173 


outward signs. But as they became more accus- 
tomed to the place and its associations, they no 
longer hurried along the corridors, with their eyes 
fixed on the ground; but glanced in, now and 
again, through some open door, to see the long 
lines of little beds and the white-capped nurses 
moving quietly about the room, or sewing cosily 
by the sunny window. Winter was not half over 
before the girls used to turn aside, now to spend a 
few moments among the forlorn midgets in the 
children’s ward, then to pass slowly along through 
the accident ward, giving a pleasant word or two 
in exchange for the smiles that never failed to 
greet their coming. Each one of them had her 
own particular circle of friends whom she gravely 
discussed with the doctor, learning much of the 
history and needs of these fellow-beings, for whom, 
until lately, they had thought and cared so little. 
Molly and Jessie devoted themselves to the little 
girls, Polly lavished all her attentions on three or 
four small boys, while the others preferred the 
older patients. But all this was only incidental, 
and the girls considered Bridget as their especial 
property, the younger ones regarding her as a 
superior sort of toy, to take the place of the 
dolls which they had cast aside. 


174 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


However, Katharine, who was older and more 
mature than the others, had come to understand 
Bridget and to be friends with her, before any of 
the others. At first she could feel nothing but 
repugnance for this uncultivated, unwholesome- 
looking girl, a repugnance which she struggled 
hard to conceal ; but, little by little, as she talked 
to her, she was won by her quiet endurance and 
courage. At length, one day, Katharine coaxed 
the girl’s story from her, how she was left an 
orphan with younger children to care for; how 
she had fallen and hurt her back; how she had 
strained it with overwork, when it was still weak ; 
how she had struggled to keep on, until the 
doctor had brought her where she was ; and how 
she must hurry to get well, in order to earn money 
to pay the neighbors for caring for the little 
children. It was a homely tale and simply told* 
but when it was ended, Katharine was surprised 
to find her eyes full of tears, as she bent over and 
touched her lips to the girl’s forehead. 

“I am glad you told me this, Bridget,” she 
said. “Now we can talk about it together, and it 
will make us better friends.” 

And Bridget answered gratefully, as she looked 
up into the clear eyes above her own, — 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


175 


“Thank you, miss. It’s nice to have a body 
know all about it. Somehow it helps along.” 

Three weeks later, as Katharine went into the 
room and dropped two or three scarlet carnations 
on the girl’s idle hand, she was saluted with excit- 
ing news. 

“A letter from home, to-day, Miss, and some- 
body has sent money enough to pay the children’s 
board for ever and ever so long ; and they don’t 
know at all who it is. Isn’t it wonderful ! ” 

Not so wonderful, perhaps, as it appeared to the 
simple girl. No one but Katharine and her 
parents ever saw the letter that went hurrying 
westward to remind her father that Christmas was 
coming, and to tell him in what way she would 
prefer to take her present. The secret was kept, 
and no thanks were ever spoken ; but Katharine 
cared for none. It was enough to watch the girl’s 
happy content, now that her one anxiety was 
removed. Mrs. Hapgood, alone, had a suspicion, 
when Molly told her of the affair ; but she wisely 
asked no questions, and in silence rejoiced over 
the broader sympathy her niece was daily gaining. 

“How queer it is, the way things are divided 
up ! ” Katharine said to Molly, one day when they 
were out driving. 


176 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


It was a clear, cold December day, and Cob 
trotted briskly over the frozen ground, as if he 
too, as well as the girls themselves, were enjoying 
the air and motion. 

“ What is divided up ? ” asked Molly vaguely, 
rousing herself from a half-formed plan for Alan’s 
Christmas present. 

“ Oh, everything, — at least, everything isn’t 
divided,” returned Katharine a little incoherently. 
“Some of us have so much more fun out of things 
than other people do. There’s us ; and then there’s 
Bridget and that little pet of Polly’s, Dicky what’s- 
his-name. You know the one I mean. And then, 
just in our set, there’s ever so much difference. 
Jessie and I have everything we want, and Jean 
has to pinch and scrimp; Jean is as strong as a 
bear, and Alan can’t do anything at all, without 
being laid up to pay for it; Polly wails for a 
family of young brothers, and Jean has more of 
them to take care of than the old woman that 
lived in a shoe. Now what’s the reason things 
are so mixed up, I’d like to know.” 

“ I can’t see why myself,” said Molly, tucking 
in the robe about herself and her cousin. “May- 
be, if we knew all about it, they aren’t as mixed 
up as they seem.” 


THE NEW READING CLUB. 


177 


“ Yes, they are,” Katharine insisted. “If they 
weren’t, some people wouldn’t have everything, 
and some go without, as they do. I don’t suppose 
there is much of anything in the world I couldn’t 
do, if I wanted to, and tried hard enough for it ; 
but everybody isn’t so.” 

“ I have sort of an idea,” answered Molly pro- 
foundly, “ that most everybody can get what she 
wants, if she is willing to work and wait long 
enough. It’s only a question of what you want.” 


CHAPTER X. 


POLLY’S POEM. 

“ Molly, don’t yon want to come and take a 
walk with me?” asked Polly, appearing in the 
door one Saturday morning. 

Molly sprang up and tossed her book down on 
the table. 

“ Yes, indeed I do. It’s too pleasant to stay in 
the house such a day as this. I’ll go and call the 
others.” 

“ But I don’t want the others, at least, not this 
morning,” said Polly mysteriously. “ I want you 
all to myself, for I’ve something to tell you, to 
show you.” Polly blushed and stammered a 
little. 

“ What is it, Poll ? ” asked Molly curiously. 

“Oh, nothing much; at least, I’ll tell you by 
and by. Go and get your hat, and come on.” 

“ The Bridget Society ” as Alan disrespectfully 
called it, had been in operation for about two 
weeks now; but though it had proved an ab- 
sorbing subject to the girls, yet it took very little 
178 


POLLY’S POEM. 


179 


of their time, and left them nearly as free as ever 
for their usual occupations. Their common in- 
terest in the one work, however, had bound the six 
girls even more closely together than before, until 
they depended on one another’s help and sym- 
pathy, in any and every question that arose. 

It was a clear, bracing day, so cold that the 
white frost was still glittering on the grass-blades 
in the more sheltered corners, so clear that the 
bare, rough ledges of the western mountain looked 
so near that one could toss a stone up to the pile 
of broken rocks which marked the line of their 
bases ; while far across the river valley, the sun 
lay warm upon the roofs and towers of the town 
nestling on the hillside, and touched with a golden 
light the tall, slender spire of the little church. 
The girls walked briskly away through the town 
and out towards the river, a mile away. Polly 
appeared to be unusually excited, whether by the 
crisp air or by her new winter coat, Molly was 
at a loss to decide. It was a fine day, surely ; 
but the more Molly studied the long dark-blue 
coat trimmed with chinchilla, and the saucy little 
blue cap edged with the same soft fur, and cocked 
on the back of Polly’s curls, she came to the con- 
clusion that Polly’s spirits were affected by her 


180 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


becoming suit. That being the case, it was plainly 
her duty to remove Polly’s worldly pride. 

“ Do try to walk like a civilized being, Polly ! ” 
she exclaimed, as her friend suddenly pounced 
into the midst of a flock of hens that were pluming 
themselves in a sunny fence-corner. “People will 
think you’re crazy, if you act so.” 

“ Well, what if they do ?” said Polly, laughing. 
“ I don’t care what they think, I wanted to aston- 
ish those hens. Shoo ! ” And she charged upon 
them again, brandishing a dry stick which she had 
picked up by the roadside. 

In spite of herself Molly laughed as she clutched 
her friend firmly by the elbow and dragged her 
onward, out of temptation’s way. 

“You’ll have the jailer and the fire department 
out after you,” she said, as she guided Polly’s 
erring footsteps back into the concrete path of 
virtue. “ Do come along ! Besides, you had some- 
thing to tell me.” 

Polly’s face grew suddenly grave, and the hot 
blood rushed to her cheeks. When she spoke, her 
voice was trembling with suppressed excitement. 

“Wait till we get out on the bridge, Molly,” 
she begged. “We’ll be all alone there.” 

So it wasn’t the new coat, after all. Molly’s 
brow cleared. 


POLLY’S POEM. 


181 


“ How queer you are, Polly ! ” she said. “ I 
can’t stand it to wait, I am so wild to know. 
Come on, let’s have a race to the bridge, then.” 

“ But you just said I mustn’t run,” protested 
Polly, hanging back. 

“ Not after hens, when the owner is looking on,” 
answered Molly ; 44 but it’s our own affair, if we 
want to run a race. Come on.” 

She threw the last word back over her shoulder 
as she went darting away, followed by Polly who 
soon passed her, laughing and breathless. In the 
middle of the long, white bridge she stopped and 
looked about her, struck by the beauty of the 
familiar scene around, the soft hills at the north, 
the shining river as it wound along through the 
russet meadow grass, and cut its way between the 
southern mountains, over which slowly flitted 
the clouds above. A few belated crows rose and 
sank down again over the deserted corn-fields, 
while, from the red house on the river bank, the 
great black dog barked an answer to their hoarse 
cries. No other living thing was in sight as 
Molly joined her friend, and they stood leaning 
against the iron rail, with their backs turned to 
the cutting wind that came down upon them 
from the northern hills. 


182 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Now, Polly.” And Molly paused expectantly. 
From rosy red, Polly’s face grew very white, 
and her breath came short and hurried. She 
hesitated for an instant, then plunged her mit- 
tened hand into her coat pocket, and pulled out 
a dingy sheet of paper whose folds, worn till they 
were transparent, showed the marks of long ser- 
vice. With trembling hands, she smoothed it out, 
tearing it a little, in her excitement. Then she 
turned to Molly. 

“ Now, Molly Hapgood,” she said solemnly ; 
“ will you promise never to tell, if I tell you some- 
thing that there doesn’t anybody else know, that 
I’ve never even shown to mamma ? ” 

“ Go on, Polly ! ” urged her friend impatiently, 
trying to steal a glance at the worn-out sheet, 
which was covered with Polly’s irregular, childish 
writing. But Polly edged cautiously away. 

“Now remember,” she said again; “you’re the 
only single soul in the world that knows this, 
Molly; and I am telling you my secret because 
I know you love me. I’ve — ” there was a catch 
in her breath — “ I’ve written a poem ! ” 

“ Really ! ” And Molly’s eyes grew round with 
astonishment and respectful awe. 

“ Yes,” Polly went on more calmly, now the 


POLLY’S POEM. 


183 


great secret was out; “I knew I could, and it 
was just as easy as could be.” 

“How did you ever know how?” inquired 
Molly, with a vague idea that she had never 
before appreciated this gifted friend. 

“ I didn’t know how, at first,” answered Polly, 
kindly exposing her methods of work to her 
friend’s gaze. “ I just knew that there ought to 
be some rhymes, and then I must say something or 
other to fill up the lines. One Sunday in church I 
read lots of hymns, — Aunt Jane wasn’t there, 
you know, — and then I went to work.” 

“Are you going to have it printed?” asked 
Molly. 

“ Not yet,” said Polly. “ I thought at first I 
would send it to the News, but I’ve a better plan. 
I’m going to copy it all out, and write my name 
on it and my age and how I came to write it, and 
put it away. After I’m dead and famous, some- 
body will find it, and it will be printed. Then 
people will make a fuss over it and call me a child 
prodigy and all sorts of nice things.” 

“ But what’s the use ? ” queried Molly. “ When 
you’re all nicely dead and buried, it can’t do you 
any good.” 

“But just think how proud my children and 


184 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


grandchildren will be ! ” exclaimed Polly enthusi- 
astically. 

44 Maybe you won’t have any,” suggested Molly 
sceptically. “ People that write are generally old 
maids, unless they are men.” 

Polly’s face fell. Here was a flaw in her plans. 

44 Well, go on,” said Molly. 44 Aren’t you going 
to read it ? ” 

Polly looked at the paper in her hand, cleared 
her throat nervously, drew a long breath, and 
cleared her throat again. 

44 What’s the matter ? ” asked Molly unsympa- 
thetically. She had never written a poem, and 
had no idea of the mingled fear and pride that 
were waging war in Polly’s mind. She spoke as 
the calm critic who waits, to sit in judgment. 

44 I’m just going to begin now,” said Polly 
faintly. Then, nerving herself to the task, she 
read aloud, — 

“ The children went chestnutting once, 

Out in the woods to stay all day, 

There’s Maude and Sue and James and Kate, 

All there, for there’s no school to-day.” 

Polly stopped to catch breath. 

44 Wliere’d you get your names ? ” inquired 
Molly critically. 


POLLY’S POEM. 


185 


Polly looked up with a startled air. 

“ Why, out of my head, of course.” 

“ Oh, did you ? ” Molly’s tone was not reassur- 
ing. “Go on,” she added. 

“ Maybe you’ll like the next verse better,” fal- 
tered Polly. 

“ The good, kind mothers pack the lunch 
Of bread and butter, meat and cake, 

So off they start at ten o’clock, 

For it is hot when it is late.” 

This time, Polly found her friend looking at 
her, with a scornful curl to her lips. 

“ I thought you said it was a poem,” she said, 
with cutting emphasis; “but it sounds just exactly 
like a bill of fare.” 

This was too much for Polly. Her temper 
flashed up like a fire among dead twigs. 

“ Molly Hapgood, you’re as mean as mean can 
be, to make fun of me ! I’ve a good mind never 
to speak to you again as long as I live.” 

As usual, the more Polly became excited, the 
more Molly grew cool and collected. 

“ Don’t be a goose, Polly,” she said provokingly. 
“ You’re no more able to write a poem than Job is.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” demanded Polly, facing 
her friend with gleaming eyes and frowning brow. 


186 


HALF A BOZEN GIRLS. 


“ What do I mean ! ” echoed Molly mercilessly. 
“ I mean just this : your old poem isn’t any poem 
at all. It doesn’t rhyme more than half way, 
and there’s no more poetry about it than there is 
about one of your freckles. Poetry is all about 
spring and clouds and butterflies, or else death 
or — ” Molly paused for an idea. Not finding 
it, she hastily concluded, “ Besides, I’ve heard 
something just like that before.” 

Polly choked down her rising sobs. 

“Very well,” she said, through her clenched 
teeth. “This is all I want of you, Molly Hap- 
good.” 

Deliberately she pulled off her mittens and put 
them into her pocket; then, with shaking hands 
and with her face drawn as if in pain, but with 
her eyes steadily fixed on Molly’s face, she slowly 
tore the paper into long, narrow strips, gathered 
the strips together and tore them into tiny squares, 
and defiantly threw them away over the side of 
the bridge into the swift blue stream below. But 
even before the first floating square had touched 
the surface of the water, the reaction had set in, 
and Polly could have cried for the loss of her first 
and only poem. For a moment, she gazed after 
the white bits drifting away from her ; then, bit- 


POLLY’S POEM. 


187 


ing her lip to steady it and struggling to keep 
back the tears, she turned on her heel, without a 
word, and walked away towards home, leaving 
Molly to follow or not, as she chose. 

The tears came fast now, as she hurried on, 
avoiding the main streets as best she could. No 
one was in sight when she reached the house, so 
she could run up the stairs unnoticed, and throw 
herself down across the foot of the bed for a long, 
hearty cry. She had hoped so much from Molly’s 
sympathy ! But, after all, now the opportunity 
had come, the tears were not so ready as they had 
been, and she did not feel quite so much as if the 
world had abused her, as she did when she was 
standing on the bridge, watching the white dots 
on the river below. At least, no great harm was 
done, for she remembered the whole poem and 
could easily write it out again. As this thought 
came to her, she sprang up once more, seized a 
pencil and a bit of paper and rewrote the words 
which had caused her so much joy and so much 
pain. She was still sitting with her forehead rest- 
ing on her clasped hands, reading the verses over 
and over and dreaming of the future day when 
fame should come to her, when she heard her 
mother’s voice outside. 


188 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Polly ! Polly ! are you there ? ” 

“ Yes, I’m here,” answered Polly, moving across 
the room to open the door, with a secret hope that 
her mother would see that she had been crying, 
and ask the reason of her tears. 

But Mrs. Adams was too intent on the matter 
in hand to give more than a passing glance at her 
daughter. 

“Polly, Aunt Jane wants you to run down to 
Mrs. Hapgood’s and ask her if she can’t take in 
some ministers next week, over the convention. 
She would like her to take four, if she can.” 

“ Oh dear ! ” grumbled Polly. “ I do wish Aunt 
Jane would go on her own old errands, and not 
keep me running all over town for her.” 

“ Polly dear,” Mrs. Adams’s tone was very 
gentle ; “ Polly, aren’t you forgetting yourself a 
little ? ” 

“ No, I’m not,” returned Polly rebelliously. “I 
hate Aunt Jane.” 

“Polly!” 

This time there was no mistaking her mother’s 
meaning. After an instant, she added, — 

“ I wish you to go at once, my daughter, and to 
go pleasantly. Aunt Jane is a good, kind aunt 
to you.” Polly raised her eyebrows, but dared 


POLLY’S POEM. 


189 


not speak ; “ and I am sorry yon are so ungrateful 
as not to be willing to do this little errand for 
her.” 

Polly turned away and obediently started on her 
errand, but as she went down the stairs, her mother 
heard her murmuring to herself words that were 
not altogether complimentary to Aunt Jane and 
the coming ministers. 

It was one of the days when everything went 
wrong, Polly said to herself as she went out of 
the gate and down the silent street. Molly had 
laughed at her, Aunt Jane had abused her, and, 
worst of all, her mother had spoken to her more 
seriously than she had done for a long time. That 
was the way it generally was with geniuses, she 
thought, and reflected with a vindictive joy that 
some day or other they would all be sorry for it. 
At this point she was interrupted by hearing her 
name called in boyish tones, — 

“ Polly ! Polly ! I say, wait for a fellow ; can’t 
you?” 

Turning, she saw Alan running after her, with 
his overcoat waving in the breeze and his soft felt 
hat pulled low on his forehead. 

“ Where going ? ” he inquired briefly, as he 
overtook her and fell into step by her side. 


190 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ To your house,” she answered as briefly, not 
yet able to return to her usual sunny manner. 

“ That’s good,” returned Alan cheerfully ; then, 
as he surveyed her, he added, “ What’s up, Polly ? 
You don’t seem to be particularly festive this 
morning. Have you and Molly been having 
another pow-wow?” 

“ A little one,” confessed Polly. 

“ That’s too bad,” said Alan, with a paternal 
air of consolation. “ If Molly’s been teasing you, 
I’ll give her fits when she comes back from Flor- 
ence’s. She’s there now.” 

“ Oh, I suppose it was both of us,” responded 
Polly, cheered by his understanding of the situ- 
ation. 

“ I presume ’twas,” said Alan candidly. “ Molly 
is an awful tease ; she gets after me once in a 
while, so I know. You’re snappish, Poll; but 
you don’t keep fussing at a fellow and hitting 
him when he’s down.” 

They walked on in silence for a few steps. 
Then Alan remarked, as he looked at her criti- 
cally, — 

“That’s a gay little cap, Polly, and suits you 
first rate. New, isn’t it ? ” 

Polly nodded smilingly. Alan’s sympathy had 


POLLY’S POEM. 


191 


smoothed out all the wrinkles in her temper, and 
she was once more her own merry self, so by the 
time she went in at the Hapgood house, she was 
laughing and talking as brightly as if she and 
Molly had never taken their walk to the bridge. 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Jessie, as she glanced down 
from the window of their room. “Here come 
Alan and Polly Adams. What a nuisance ! ” 

The two sisters, left to themselves for the morn- 
ing, had been having a private feast of lemonade 
and crackers in their own room, where they had 
been alternately reading and nibbling, for the 
past hour. 

“Why is it a nuisance?” inquired Katharine, 
getting up to look out of the window, over her 
sister who was curled up in one of the deep win- 
dow-seats, regardless of the delicate frost ferns 
that were thinly scattered over the panes. 

“ Just see here,” replied Jessie, as she stretched 
out her arm for the pitcher and tilted it expres- 
sively, exposing to view a few bare, dry slices of 
lemon in the bottom. “ They’ll be sure to come up 
here, and it’s rather shabby not to give them any.” 

“I’d make some more,” said Katharine, pen- 
sively surveying the ruins of the feast; “but I 
put our very last lemon into this, and I can’t. 


192 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Maybe they won’t care for any, it’s so cold,” she 
added, with an air of relief. 

“ I’ll tell you, put in some more water, and mix 
it up pretty well,” said Jessie hastily, as she heard 
Alan calling from below. “ It was almost too 
strong before, so it won’t be so bad, and we really 
ought to treat, I think.” 

Katharine laughed silently, as she obeyed her 
sister’s instructions, while Jessie surveyed the 
operation with dancing eyes. 

“ Let’s see,” she said gravely, as she poured out 
a few drops into a glass. 

With frowning solemnity she tasted it, then set 
down the glass with an air of decision. 

“It’s real good truly, Kit. I’ll get out some 
more crackers, and then you call them up. Boys 
are never very fussy, when it’s something to eat ; 
and Polly will like the fun.” And as she opened 
the box and took out a fresh plateful of their 
dainty crackers, Katharine invited up her guests 
who came willingly enough, never dreaming of 
the straits to which their friends’ hospitality had 
put them. 

“Whose autograph album is this?” exclaimed 
Polly, pouncing on a flaming red and gold volume 
that lay on the table. 


POLLY’S POEM. 


193 


“It belongs to one of the girls up at school,” 
answered Jessie. “Just see here, and here, and 
here,” she continued, turning over the leaves and 
pointing to several well-known names. “You see, 
she lives in Boston and her father knows all these 
people, so she could get them.” 

“ How splendid ! ” And Polly bent over to 
gaze more closely on the signature of a writer 
dear to all childish hearts. “ I’d give almost any- 
thing for that,” she sighed. 

“ Which is that ? ” asked Katharine, leaning 
over to glance at the page. “Yes, I wouldn’t 
much mind having that one. But, after all, auto- 
graph albums are a bore. I used to care for them, 
years ago, but they are all just alike. I had one 
friend who wrote the same verse in every album 
she took, only she changed the name in it. Have 
some more lemonade, Polly.” And she waved the 
pitcher which was nearly empty for the second 
time. 

“ No, thank you,” answered Polly gratefully ; 
“ but it’s been ever so good. I haven’t had any 
since last summer, so this tasted better than usual, 
and I always like it.” 

“I am so glad,” responded Katharine heartily, 
though with a sly glance at her sister. 


194 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ But I don’t think autographs are stupid,” said 
Jessie, returning to the subject of the book in her 
hand. 44 I wish I had all these. Why, sometimes 
they are sold and bring perfectly e-normous 
prices.” 

“ I know that,” said Katharine ; “ but they 
make ever so much fun of the people that ask for 
them.” 

“ I don’t care if they do,” said Jessie ; “ I’m 
going to have one, pretty soon, that will make you 
all envy me.” 

44 Whose ? ” asked Alan. 

“That’s telling,” responded Jessie mysteriously. 

“How are you going to get it?” inquired Polly. 

“I’ve asked for it,” replied Jessie, with a know- 
ing smile. 

44 Is it somebody I know ? ” asked her sister. 

44 No, not exactly; but it’s somebody that every- 
one in this whole world knows about.” 

44 Jessie Shepard, what crazy thing have you 
been doing ? ” demanded Katharine. 

44 1 shan’t tell.” And Jessie shut her lips 
defiantly. 

44 Oh, come on, Jessie, tell us,” urged Alan, 
while Katharine added, — 

“If you don’t tell me, Jessie, I shall speak to 


POLLY’S POEM. 


195 


auntie. I know you have done something you are 
ashamed of.” 

Jessie laughed good-naturedly. 

44 Don’t be silly and make such a fuss over 
nothing, Kit. I only wanted to tease you a little ; 
I’d just as soon tell as not. I’ll give you each a 
guess, and then, if you don’t get it, I’ll tell you. 
That’s fair, isn’t it ? Who’ll you guess, Kit ? ” 

44 Oliver Wendell Holmes,” said Katharine 
promptly. 

Jessie smiled disdainfully. 

44 Wrong. What should I want of him ? ” 

44 1 should think anybody would want him,” 
returned Katharine. 44 He’s the greatest person 
I could think of; and besides, you’ve just been 
studying about him.” 

44 Well, he isn’t the one,” said Jessie. 44 Go on, 
Alan.” 

44 The President of these United States,” sug- 
gested Alan pompously. 

“Never!” responded Jessie fervently. 44 I’m a 
Democrat, you know, so I don’t want him. But 
you’re in the right track. Polly, who is it? ” 

44 General Grant,” said Polly. 

44 He died ever so long ago, Polly,” corrected 
Alan. 


196 


HALF A DOZEN GIELS. 


“Oh, yes, so he did. Well, let’s see. The 
Mayor of Omaha ? ” 

“No! No! No!” said Jessie. “I didn’t say it 
was a man, any way. It’s a woman ; she’s an 
English-man and she’s a queen.” 

“Jessie!” And Katharine dropped into a chair, 
too much horrified to say more. 

“You don’t mean to say,” queried Polly, “that 
you’ve been and gone and asked Queen Victoria 
to send you her autograph?” 

Jessie nodded triumphantly. 

“Well, she won’t,” returned Polly, with delib- 
erate emphasis, while Alan laughed, and laughed 
again at the absurd idea. 

Then Jessie showed her trump card. 

“ Yes, she will,” she said, with a firmness born 
of conviction ; “ she will too, for I put in a two- 
cent stamp for her to answer with. There ! ” 


CHAPTER XI. 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EYE. 

Christmas mystery was in the air. For weeks 
the girls had been busy over all sorts of gay trifles 
which were whisked out of sight, now and then, 
to avoid some particular pair of curious eyes that 
were not intended to see them until the proper 
moment came. 

What’s the use of making such a time about 
it?” inquired Alan, in some disgust one day. 

He had rushed breathlessly into the room to 
announce the first skating of the season, and was 
greeted with four protesting voices, as the girls 
tried to cover up the stripes of the afghan they 
were making for his own especial use. 

“ Making such a time about it, you heathen ! ” 
retorted Polly, diving after a ball of golden-yellow 
wool ; “ you know perfectly well that all the fun 
of Christmas is in surprising people. I’d rather 
have a paper of pins, and have the fun of being 
astonished over it, than get the most elegant pres- 
ent in creation and know all about it beforehand.” 


197 


198 HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 

“ That’s all very fine, Poll ; but I haven’t been 
able to come near you girls for a month, without 
your all howling at me,” objected Alan. “Now, 
of course I know you aren’t doing all this for me, 
but you won’t let me see anything. I’ll start up 
some secrets, too ; see if I don’t ! ” 

“ Poor boy, does he want to see?” said Katharine 
protectingly. “Well, I’ll show you one thing, 
Alan, if you’ll promise not to tease any more.” 

“ Depends on what ’tis,” returned Alan grudg- 
ingly. “ One is better than nothing, so go ahead.” 

Katharine gathered up her work under the light 
shawl which lay across her shoulders, and went 
away out of the room. Presently she came back 
again, with a pile of something soft and red in her 
arms. 

“ There now ! ” she said, shaking out the folds 
with conscious pride. “ This is our grandest 
secret of all. It’s a dressing-gown for Bridget, 
and we girls have cut and made it ourselves, every 
stitch. It’s well made, too ; you can look, if you 
know enough to judge.” 

“We!” echoed Polly. “Katharine has done 
’most all of the work.” 

Alan eyed it critically. 

“ I say, that’s something worth having,” he re- 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EYE. 


199 


marked. “I wish I was Miss O’Finnigan; I know 
that color would be becoming to me, and it’s so 
soft and warm.” And before the girls could guess 
his intention, he had slipped on the long, loose 
garment, and was parading up and down the room 
in it, with all the airs of a young peacock. 

“ Tell me some more,” he implored them ; “ tell 
me what you were doing when I came in.” 

“ Never ! ” said Jessie sternly. “ You know 
more now than you deserve. You’ll have to wait 
for the rest.” 

“A whole week?” groanecf Alan. “I never 
can stand it. Never you mind, though ; I know 
one thing you don’t, and I was going to tell you, 
and now I shan’t. It’s something awfully nice, 
too, and it’s about Christmas.” 

“ Tell me, Alan,” said Katharine. “ You know 
I showed you this, so it’s only fair you should let 
me be the one to hear your secret.” 

“ All right, Kit ; I’ll tell you for the sake of 
making the rest jealous.” And Alan glared de- 
fiantly at the other girls, as he bent over and whis- 
pered a few words in Katharine’s ear. 

“ Really, Alan ? What fun ! ” 

“ Isn’t it ? ” And they exchanged significant 
smiles. 


200 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Where’s Jean, these days?” inquired Alan, 
a few minutes later, as he settled himself on the 
sofa, with his shoes on the pillow. “I haven’t 
seen her for a coon’s age.” 

“Poor Jean!” said Polly. “She’s having a 
hard time. Ever since her father had that fall, 
two weeks ago, Mrs. Dwight has been busy with 
taking care of him, and Jean has had to do all 
the work, and see to those four boys, besides.” 

“ That’s hard luck,” said Alan sympathetically. 

“ I did feel so sorry for her, the other day,” said 
Jessie, moving into the sofa corner to let Alan 
rest his yellow head in her lap. “I asked her 
what she was going to do Christmas, and she 
said, ‘Nothing at all.’ She laughed; she always 
does that, but she looked as sober as could be, 
and it did sound so forlorn.” 

There was a silence throughout the group for 
a moment. 

“ I say ! ” exclaimed Alan so suddenly that 
Jessie, who was bending over to part his hair into 
little squares, started violently. 

“Well?” inquired Molly, who was tranquilly 
rocking back and forth by the window. 

“I say, girls, let’s give her a Christmas sur- 
prise.” 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


201 


“ Good, Alan ! ” And Jessie sprang up in an 
excited fashion that nearly dislocated the boy’s 
neck. “ This is the best plan yet. It’s ever so 
much more fun than Bridget; and Jean is working 
so hard now, that she needs a little good time 
to make up for it. What shall we do ? ” 

“ Oh, have some kind of a lark Christmas eve,” 
answered Alan. “We can’t do it Christmas day 
because — W ell, I may as well tell the rest of 
you — mamma has just asked Polly and all the 
other Adamses to come here for dinner and the 
evening, so we can have our fun, all of us to- 
gether.” 

“ Oh-h-h ! ” remarked Polly rapturously. 

“ So you see,” the boy went on ; “ whatever we 
do must come in on the night before ; but I think 
we could manage it. Let’s call mamma in, to 
take counsel.” 

“Would Florence help us along, I wonder,” 
said Jessie thoughtfully. 

“Yes, I know she will,” Katharine responded 
quickly; “I’ll answer for her. We’ll have to 
work, girls, to get this done, with all our other 
plans ; but I am sure we can do it.” 

“ Oh, dear ! I’ve got to finish up my scrap- 
book for my hospital boys,” sighed Polly ; “ and 


202 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


the corners peel up faster than I can stick them 
down.” 

“ I’ll do it for you, Polly,” Alan offered. “ I 
can’t sew, but I can stick beautifully.” 

“ That’s so,” said Molly, in an undertone to 
Polly. “ He upset the mucilage bottle into the 
dictionary, the other day, and now we have to 
take a knife and pry, if we want to look up any- 
thing from I to Q.” 

“ Oh, Polly, I almost forgot to tell you,” said 
Alan suddenly. “ I was coming up past your 
house, just now, and saw Mr. Baxter going in at 
the gate. You’d better hurry home, and tell him 
something more about Job.” 

Polly laughed at the memory. 

“ He has called once since then,” she said. “ I 

don’t see what has started his doing that, and he 

% 

comes to see Aunt Jane, of all people. This time 
I was telling about, he went on in the queerest 
way about his children, as if he didn’t care any- 
thing for them. I wish you could have heard him. 
He said that they had very peculiar dispositions, 
and his wife never did know how to bring them 
up. But go call your mother, there’s a dear boy. 
I do want to plan about Jean.” 

For the next hour there was held a council into 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


203 


which Mrs. Hapgood entered with spirit, restrain- 
ing the girls’ ardor, offering all manner of assist- 
ance, and making many a useful suggestion for the 
success of their frolic, which was to be extended to 
include something for the little brothers, as well 
as for Jean. There was no time to be lost, for 
there was only a week before Christmas, and there 
was much to be done. At dinner time the girls 
separated, with many vows of secrecy. 

Christmas fell on Thursday that year. It had 
been cloudy all the early part of the week, and on 
Wednesday morning Jean had opened her eyes in 
the cold, gray dawn, to see the air filled with whirl- 
ing snowflakes that went dancing and skurrying 
this way and that before the noisy wind. Such a 
tempting morning to pull the blankets over one’s 
shoulders and nestle down for another nap ! But 
there was no such luxury for Jean ; she scarcely 
had time to realize that this was the dawn of the 
Christmas eve. A careless step on a slippery roof, 
a cutting wind which had numbed him too much 
to let him save himself, these had given her father 
a bad fall so that work was out of the question for 
a long time to come. Her mother was busy car- 
ing for her husband and doing a little sewing at 
odd moments, so the main charge of the house and 


204 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


of the children had fallen on Jean’s strong young 
shoulders, which were bearing the load with a 
merry willingness that is so much more helpful 
than mere patient endurance. And really, if it 
had not been for Christmas, Jean would not have 
minded it so much. But it was hard to think of 
the fun the other girls were having over their 
mysterious plans ; and though she had no time to 
join them, in fancy she pictured their merry after- 
noons together, while Alan dodged about them, 
pretending to pry and peep into the carefully 
covered work-baskets. Harder still it was to 
imagine the disappointment of her own young 
brothers, when Christmas morning should reveal 
the empty little stockings that Santa Claus had 
forgotten to fill. 

“No, Jean,” Mrs. Dwight had said sadly; “we 
can’t have any Christmas this year. I’m sorry to 
disappoint you and the children ; but with the 
uncertainty about father’s going to work again, I 
feel that it would be really wrong for us to use our 
money for presents, when before winter is over, we 
may have to borrow some for food or clothes.” 

And Jean saw the right of it. Still, she cried 
herself to sleep that night, not so much for her- 
self, as for the boys who had talked of the chil- 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EYE. 


205 


dren’s fnr-clad saint for a month past. But by the 
next morning, Jean’s inspiration had come. As 
soon as her work was done, she shut herself into 
her room and ransacked her few small stores. At 
least the boys should not be disappointed she 
thought, as she selected this treasure and that 
from the meagre number which she had hoarded 
with such care. A little planning and contriving 
changed them to fit the present need, and Jean 
had put them away until Christmas eve with the 
happy certainty that, at any rate, the toes of the 
stockings would bulge a little, even if the legs 
hung empty and lean. 

But now it was the morning of Christmas eve, 
and breakfast was waiting until Jean should get 
it ready, so she sprang up and hastily dressed her- 
self. Then, with her cheeks glowing from the 
shock of the icy water, and her fingers aching with 
cold, she ran across the hall to rouse the boys. 
But they were sitting up in bed, calling back 
and forth to each other through the open door 
between their rooms, in all the joyous excitement 
of the approaching Christmas tide ; so Jean only 
stopped to caution them not to disturb their father, 
and hurried away down-stairs, to start the fire for 
their morning meal. The house was so cold, in 


206 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


the dim light, for the fire had burned low and the 
wind seemed to blow in through all the cracks 
and corners. But Jean never minded that ; she 
was thinking with a quiet satisfaction of the little 
box up-stairs, and as she knelt on the bare floor to 
shake down the ashes in the kitchen stove, she 
was humming contentedly to herself, — 

“ * And pray a gladsome Christmas 
On all good Christian men ; 

Carol, brothers, carol, 

Christmas day again ! ’ ” 

Her mother’s step interrupted her. 

“ Good morning, mammy ! ” she exclaimed, 
jumping up. “ Why in the world didn’t you stay 
in bed till the house was a little warmer ? ” 

“ It’s no colder for me than it is for you,” her 
mother answered. “ Your nose is blue and your 
ears are red. Are the boys getting up ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; they must be nearly dressed,” an- 
swered Jean. “ They started as soon as I did.” 

Breakfast was all ready to put on the table, and 
still the boys had not come down. Jean had 
heard them running about their rooms ; but now, 
for some time, all had been silent. Suddenly there 
was a shout. 

“ Jean ! Jean ! Jean ! ” 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EYE. 


207 


“Well,” answered Jean, going to the foot of the 
back stairs, with the toasting-fork in one hand and 
a slice of bread in the other. 

“ I can’t find but one stocking. You come and 
look for it for me.” 

“ I’m busy, Erne,” she called. “ Ask Willie to 
help you.” 

“ He won’t. He’s gone back to bed, ’cause it’s 
cold,” responded the childish voice. 

Jean glanced at her mother in despair. Then 
she put down her toast and went up to the boy’s 
room. Mrs. Dwight could hear her coaxing, 
laughing, and merrily scolding the boys, as she 
found the missing garments, routed Willie out 
from his warm nest in the middle of the bed, and 
triumphantly marshalled the four children down- 
stairs to their seats at the breakfast table. 

It was the beginning of a long, hard day, and 
Jean was forced, again and again, to hold herself 
in check while she bethought herself of the true 
Christmas spirit : good will to men. The boys 
had not the least intention of being naughty ; but 
the storm kept them shut up in the house, and 
they were overflowing with fun and mischief, 
which was somewhat increased by the vague holi- 
day feeling that is in the very air around us at 


208 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Christmas time. Jean did her part well, restrain- 
ing their boisterous shouts, making peace in their 
small quarrels, proposing new entertainments 
when the old ones had been worn threadbare, and, 
in the afternoon, calling them all into a corner of 
the dining-room and telling them marvellous old- 
time stories, to keep them quiet while their father 
took his nap in the next room. Not much of a 
Christmas eve, perhaps, compared with the stir 
and bustle of preparation at the Hapgoods’, or 
with the elaborate gifts which Mr. and Mrs. Lang 
had bought for their only child ; but after all, 
blessed be drudgery ! and the hard work and 
stern self-denial were doing much to round Jean’s 
character into the perfect womanhood, for which 
all our girls were striving. 

Slowly the day wore away; an endless one it 
appeared to Jean who, with tired hands and 
weary head, longed for the hour when the little 
ones should be tucked away for the night, and she 
could give her nerves and her patience a little rest. 
It came soon after supper, for the boys were more 
than ready to go to bed, hoping in this way to 
encourage an early visit from Santa Claus and so 
have the first choice of gifts from his overflowing 
pack. There was a little sadness in Jean’s smile, 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


209 


as she watched them eagerly fastening their long 
stockings around the kitchen chimney, with many 
a sleepy dispute about the best place and to whom 
it should be given. Then they clattered up the 
stairs and pulled off their clothes, tossing them in 
a promiscuous pile on the floor, to be sorted out 
again by Jean while they lay huddled under the 
blankets. The last good night was said, the last 
“Merry Christmas” exchanged in anticipation of 
the morrow, and Jean went away and left them. 

She crossed into her own room, took up the 
little box, and went down-stairs again and out 
into the kitchen. How poor and mean her gifts 
looked, after all, and how lonely in the toes of 
the long, thin stockings ! She could have cried, 
as she stood there looking at them ; but what was 
the use of crying? Tears wouldn’t bring Willie 
the air-rifle for which he sighed, nor Ernest the 
fine new sled and knife that he had so innocently 
mentioned in his prayers. No, crying wouldn’t 
help the matter any; so she smiled instead, as 
she went back to the sitting-room; but it was 
a wan, lifeless smile, after all. 

For a few moments she stood at the window, 
looking out into the night and listening to the 
sleepy murmurs from the room above. It would 


210 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


be good sleighing for Santa Claus, she thought, 
and then smiled at the childishness of the idea. 
The storm had died away at sunset, and the soft, 
light snow lay white on the ground, and piled 
high on the evergreen hedge at the side of the 
house. In the cold, still air, the stars glittered 
like little, pricking points of steel, throwing a 
faint light over the town below ; while, far down 
in the quiet western sky, lay the tiny silver thread 
of the baby moon, as if anxious to linger above 
the horizon for a peep into the happy Christmas 
world, when the midnight bells should ring in the 
glad news, centuries old, yet ever coming to us 
with all the fresh joy of that first eastern Christ- 
mas dawn. 

Jean’s eyes wandered from the snow below to 
the sky above, then dropped again to the distant 
lights that were shining out from the upper rooms 
of the Hapgood house. Even the attic was ablaze, 
for Mrs. Hapgood still kept to the old-fashioned 
custom of illuminating the house on Christmas 
eve. How Jean wished she could peep in to see 
what they were all doing! She had missed her 
friends and their frolics during these past weeks, 
missed them more than an}^ one knew but her 
pillow, to which alone she confided her troubles. 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EVE. 


211 


Then she turned away from the window and 
threw herself down on the scratchy old haircloth 
sofa, with her arms folded under her head, to stare 
at the ceiling and think it all over. She had 
kept her temper that day, at least; for so much 
she could be thankful. But now she would have 
given worlds to run away out of the house and 
down the street, to spend the evening with Polly 
or Molly, or even Florence. Mrs. Dwight was 
busy with her husband, so Jean was quite alone 
and could be as forlorn as she pleased. 

Suddenly she sprang up and listened intently. 
There was the rhythmic beat of footsteps on the 
sidewalk which Willie had cleared, and a chorus 
of blithe young voices rang out on the quiet air. 

“ 1 Hark ! Hark ! Upon the frosty air of night 
A joyful anthem swells ! 

A song of gladness and delight, 

The bells ring out with all their might, 

And echo o’er the fields, with snow all bright, 

The merry Christmas bells ! ’ ” 

“ It’s a carol ! ” And Jean strained her ears to 
listen, wdiile the steps and the voices came nearer, 
and still nearer. 

“ « Hark ! Hark ! About the gray old belfry tower 
Their gladsome notes resound, 

And carol through the moonlight hour, 


212 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


O’er snowy sward and glist’ning bower, 

The glory of the Lord, whose saving power 
On earth to-night was found.’ ” 

They were very near now, nearer than Jean 
realized, for, as the last line died away, the front 
door swung open and the singers appeared on the 
threshold, with rosy cheeks and shining eyes, 
exclaiming in a jovial chorus, — 

“ Merry Christmas, Jean ! ” 

And Jean stood in amazement, while Alan and 
Polly set down the great basket that they carried, 
and the six friends pulled off their coats and hats 
and prepared to spend a long evening. 

What need to linger over the unpacking of the 
great basket, to listen to the fun as the simple 
presents and absurd jokes came to light, one after 
another, while Jean now wiped away a tear or two 
over Katharine’s dainty gift, now laughed convul- 
sively over some ridiculous prank of Alan’s plot- 
ting? And all the time, the chorus went on, now 
explaining, now joking, but always bringing to 
Jean the welcome assurance that her friends did 
not forget her even in her absence. 

It was a successful evening, they all said again 
and again, as they gathered at the door in the 
starlight; and Jean stood looking after them with 


JEAN’S CHRISTMAS EYE. 


213 


happy eyes as they marched off through the 
snow, gaily singing the dear old carol, — 

“ * God rest ye, merry gentlemen, 

Let nothing you dismay, 

For Jesus Christ, the Saviour, 

Was born upon this day.’ ” ' 

That night when the Christ child came silently 
over the mountains and down into the sleeping 
town, he lingered beside their pillows, to whisper 
to Jean words of encouragement for the coming 
days of toil, to paint bright visions of the well- 
filled stockings which the boys were to find in the 
morning, and to bring to five girls and one young 
lad his thanks for their helping to do his work 
here upon the earth. And if the morning brought 
the merry Christmas to them all, to none it came 
more truly than to Jean as she watched the 
children’s rapture over their lumpy, shapeless 
stockings, while she turned, again and again, to 
look over and caress her own generous share of 
gifts which the Christmas eve had brought her. 


CHAPTER XII. 


HALE A DOZEN COOKS. 

Christmas had come and gone, and the new 
year was well started in its course. The time was 
passing rapidly for the seven young people, who 
were making the very most of the cold, bracing 
winter weather. There were coasting frolics and 
skating parties, long walks and longer sleigh-rides, 
and even one grand snowball fight which was 
brought to an untimely end by a carelessly aimed 
ball that flew straight from Jessie’s hand to the 
back of Aunt Jane’s stately neck, just as that 
good woman was starting for the jail with a large 
package of tracts clasped in her black-gloved 
hands. The calls on Bridget still continued and 
the long-talked-of play was slowly approaching 
completion. Jean had worked on it at intervals 
during her father’s illness, and it was now so 
nearly done that the girls had thought it was 
advisable to begin rehearsing on the first part of 
it at once. 

And best of all the good times were the long, 
214 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


215 


cosey evenings, when they gathered around the 
open fire, either at the Hapgood house, or else 
in Mrs. Adams’s parlor, to talk over the events 
of the day or tell stories, while they roasted 
apples and popped corn over the coals, regardless 
of the fact that much better results and much 
fewer burns would have come from the same 
labors performed over the kitchen stove. 

They were all settled at Polly’s one snowy 
evening, Mrs. Adams sewing by the lamp, Polly, 
Jessie, and Alan curled up on the rug, and the 
others in low chairs, when Aunt Jane came into 
the room, looking like a funereal sort of spook in 
her long, shiny black waterproof. 

“ What now, Jane ? ” inquired her sister, glanc- 
ing up from her work. 

“ Mothers’ Meeting,” responded Aunt Jane, 
disdainfully eying the home-like group before 
her. 

“ Oh, Jane, I wouldn’t take that long walk on 
such a stormy night,” urged Mrs. Adams. 

“ If these children can come here for mere 
pleasure, it certainly is not too stormy for me 
to go out on an errand of duty,” answered Aunt 
Jane, with dignity. u And, Isabel, I really think 
it is your duty, too, as a mother, to go to these 


216 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


meetings. They are very helpful and improving, 
and would be a great source of comfort to you 
in training Polly.” 

“ Perhaps they might be, if I went,” replied her 
sister gently ; “ but you can never make me be- 
lieve, Jane, that I ought to go away and leave 
Polly alone, one night in every week.” 

“ Don’t go, Mrs. Adams,” implored Alan, in an 
undertone. 

“ I haven’t the least idea of it, Alan,” she 
answered, as the door closed behind Aunt Jane. 
“ People don’t all think alike about these things, 
and your mother and I both believe that we can 
do more good by staying at home, and trying to 
know and understand our own boys and girls, 
than by leaving them while we tell somebody else 
how to bring up her children that we have never 
seen.” And Mrs. Adams gave a little nod of 
conviction, as Katharine moved her chair back 
to the table, saying heartily, — 

“ I quite agree with you, auntie.” 

“ Perhaps if you’d always been to the meetings, 
Jerusalem, I’d have been more of a success,” 
remarked Polly pensively, as she settled herself 
more comfortably with her head in Jean’s lap. 

“No use wasting one’s time on poor material,” 


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217 


said Alan philosophically, while he shielded his 
face from the blaze with the shovel. 

“ Molly, do you remember what a time we had 
one night, trying to make this fire burn?” 
inquired Polly, thoughtlessly betraying the secret 
of their experiences. 

“ Don’t I, though ! ” answered Molly fervently. 

“ When was that ? ” asked Florence. 

“ Last fall, when mamma went to New York,” 
answered Polly. “We wouldn’t tell you then, 
but I don’t care now, do you, Molly?” 

“You’d better let me tell it,” put in Alan. 
“You girls won’t half do it justice. Now listen.” 
And he told the tale of their housekeeping 
experiences, suppressing nothing, but, on the 
contrary, making such additions as his fertile 
brain and an utter disregard of the facts could 
suggest. 

By the time his story was done, Polly and 
Molly were blushing and protesting, while the 
other girls were lying back in their seats, ex- 
hausted with laughing. 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Katharine, as her cousin 
ceased speaking. 

“ All ! I should think it was, and more too,” 
said Molly. “ He made up half of that, and the 


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other half he exaggerated so that it couldn’t rec- 
ognize itself, if it tried.” 

“How many of you girls would do any better?” 
added Polly. 

“ I can’t cook the first solitary thing,” admitted 
Florence ; “ but I had a cousin that used to make 
bread when she was ten years old.” 

“Much good that does you,” remarked Alan 
disrespectfully. “My grandmother was a splen- 
did cook, but I never found that it helped Molly 
any.” 

“I can cook,” said Jean, with manifest pride; 
“ I know how to do meat and lots of things ; but 
I don’t suppose I should, if I hadn’t had to.” 

“ I always wanted to get into the kitchen, when 
I was a little girl,” said Florence. “We had one 
girl that used to let me roll out pie-crust and stir 
up muffins ; but mamma caught me one day, with 
a new gown all covered with flour and bits of 
dough, and after that there was no kitchen for 
me. 

“Ask Alan how he boiled some meat once,” 
said Molly. 

Alan hung his head in confusion. 

“ I’ll tell you, if he won’t,” went on his sister 
mercilessly. “ Two years ago we had some com- 


HALF A BOZEN COOKS. 


219 


pany just before Thanksgiving, and mamma 
wanted to boil some meat for mince pies. We 
hadn’t any girl, so when we went to ride, she told 
Alan to watch it and put in more water when it 
needed it, so it shouldn’t burn. He went off to 
play ball and forgot it, and — ” Molly made an 
impressive pause. 

“ Go on, Molly,” urged Polly, delighted that 
the tables were turned, and Alan’s failings to be 
brought to light. 

“Well,” resumed Molly, ignoring her brother’s 
threatening glances; “as soon as we turned the 
corner, coming home, we noticed a most awful 
smell. It grew worse, the nearer we came to the 
house ; and then we saw the kitchen door wide 
open, and the smoke just pouring out in streams.” 
Molly’s metaphors were becoming mixed, but the 
girls never minded that, as she continued, “ Mam- 
ma was dreadfully frightened, for she thought the 
house was on fire. We rushed in, and there was 
the meat frizzling away on the stove, and Alan so 
excited that he was just hopping up and down 
and crying, and letting it burn away, because he 
didn’t dare take it off. It was more than a week 
before the smoke was out of the house.” 

A gentle snore from Alan greeted the end of 


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the story. He had rolled over on his face, and 
was apparently sound asleep. 

44 There ! ” said Polly, with an accent of relief. 
“I’m glad we aren’t the only know-nothings in 
the world, Molly.” 

“The question is, how are we going to know 
something,” said Katharine thoughtfully. 

“Let’s turn our reading club into a cooking 
club,” suggested Jessie ; “ that is, if Mrs. Adams 
is willing.” 

“ Yes, and poison ourselves, or else die of indi- 
gestion,” interrupted Alan, waking abruptly to 
make this remark. 

“ Oh, you go to sleep again ! ” said Polly, roll- 
ing a hassock at him. 

But Alan appropriated the weapon, and at once 
put it to use as a pillow, while his sister said 
reflectively, — 

“ I wish we could do something of the kind. I 
don’t know as we can ; but I should so like to 
know how to do enough cooking so that Polly and 
I won’t starve to death, next time we keep house.” 

While they were talking, Mrs. Adams had been 
hastily thinking over the possibility of giving the 
girls a few lessons in plain cooking. Such a plan 
would take some of her time, and involve much 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


221 


trouble and waste, besides, as Alan had suggested, 
imperilling the digestions of the family. But, on 
the other hand, Mrs. Adams had always felt that 
any woman, no matter how many servants she 
might keep, should have enough experience as a 
cook to direct the servants intelligently, and to 
be able to provide food for her family, if the hour 
of need should ever come. It was high time that 
Polly should be gaining a little of this experience, 
so why not extend her lessons to include all the 
girls ? It would probably be the only chance that 
Florence and the Shepards would ever have. She 
resolved to try the experiment, for a time at least. 

“ What’s the use of it, anyway ? ” Florence was 
saying. “ A servant always does the cooking.” 

“ Yes,” Mrs. Adams answered, suddenly break- 
ing in on the conversation once more ; “ but per- 
haps you won’t always be able to keep a servant, 
perhaps you’ll have a poor one. I knew of one 
unfortunate young wife who knew so little about 
cooking that, before she could teach her servant, 
she used to have to study her cook-book and recite 
the rules to her husband, to be sure she had learned 
them. Now I don’t want any of my girls to be in 
such an absurd position, so I’m going to give you 
a few lessons, just to try and see if they are a 


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success. Come next Saturday morning, and bring 
your gingham aprons.” 

“ Yes,” added a voice from the next room, where 
the doctor had just settled down to his evening 
paper ; “ and I’ll promise to give two prizes, one 
to the first girl that will bring me a perfect loaf of 
bread of her own making, the other to the first one 
who invites me to a dinner which she herself has 
cooked.” 

“That’s not fair, papa,” remonstrated Polly. 
“ Jean knows all about it now, and can take both 
prizes.” 

“ She doesn’t know the first thing about bread,” 
returned Jean, “and she never knew till to-night 
that elastic starch was good for puddings.” 

The following Saturday morning proved to be 
the first of a long series of similar meetings. The 
girls entered into the subject enthusiastically, de- 
lighted with the new interest which bade fair to 
rival Bridget in their estimation ; and week after 
week they gathered in Mrs. Adams’s great kitchen 
to mix and to stir, to bake and to brew. Mistakes 
were numerous and failures frequent; but Mrs. 
Adams was an admirable teacher, praising the 
girls when she could, encouraging them when her 
conscience forbade her to praise, and they toiled 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


223 


on, regardless of burns, and not even deterred by 
the prospect of the dish-washing, which always 
ended their morning’s work. Alan was not per- 
mitted to cook, but he acted alternately in the 
capacities of errand-boy and taster-in-chief, and 
his hearty boy appetite carried him through the 
operation, unharmed. Polly’s experiments were, 
perhaps, the most original and striking of any that 
were made. On one occasion, she neglected to 
sweeten her muffins till they were in the oven and 
began to bake. The rule called for sugar, and 
most cooks would have regarded the attempt as a 
failure; not so with Polly. Slyly opening the 
oven door, she added a generous teaspoonful of 
sugar to every separate muffin, greatly to the sur- 
prise of the others, when they broke them open, 
to find a solid lump mysteriously arranged in the 
top of every one. The teasing she had to endure 
when the truth was known, was only equalled by 
that which fell to her lot a week later when, as if 
to make amends for past extravagance, she forgot 
to put any sugar at all in her sponge cake. Even 
Alan’s appetite failed to compass the result of this 
venture. 

Slowly the plan extended until, as spring came 
on, Mrs. Adams used to take her flock on market- 


224 


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ing expeditions, letting each in turn select the 
dinner at her will. These Saturday mornings 
were regarded by the girls as the crowning frolic 
of the week, for the simple domestic lessons 
which they were learning were made so gay and 
attractive that it was not until long years had 
passed and they were in charge of homes of their 
own, that most of them realized all that Mrs. 
Adams had done for them. 

At length, during the latter part of April and 
the first week in May, the spirit of hospitality 
appeared to have run riot among the young cooks, 
for Dr. Adams was invited to a series of six grand 
dinner parties, each one more elaborate than the 
last. Jean, as the veteran cook of the club, 
opened the course, and it was good to see her 
air of importance as she presided over the long 
table, in the chair of state from which her mother 
was for the once deposed. It was all delicious, 
the doctor declared, and he filled Jean with satis- 
faction by asking to be helped a third time to 
her macaroni and cheese, and praised the roast 
until the other girls exchanged envious glances. 

Florence’s dinner followed, and was a surprise 
to them all, for this dainty, helpless girl, who had 
been brought up to know nothing of the practical 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


225 


side of life, had developed a real genius for cook- 
ery ; and during the past two months she had 
spent many a happy hour in the kitchen, helping 
the cook to concoct her elaborate dishes with a 
skill which won the praise of even that accom- 
plished tyrant, and Florence was making rapid 
progress towards being able to take charge of the 
house and servants which had been promised to 
her on Hallowe’en. 

Polly’s turn came last of all, and she had de- 
termined to retire from the contest covered with 
glory in all their eyes. She had chosen the first 
Saturday in May for her party, and she had 
gained her mother’s somewhat reluctant consent 
to extend her invitations to include Mrs. Dwight, 
Mrs. Lang, and Mrs. Hapgood, as well as the other 
girls and Alan, who had been the usual guests. 

It proved to be one of the warm, heavy days 
which come in the early part of May, a day that 
is delightful to those who can be absolutely idle, 
but which is singularly oppressive to the unfor- 
tunate majority who have duties to which they 
must attend. Though the dinner hour was not 
until six o’clock, Polly was up betimes, and went 
rushing about the house and slamming doors, with 
a profound disregard of Aunt Jane’s morning nap. 


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By eleven o’clock the house was in festal array, 
and the most delicate of lemon puddings was cool- 
ing on the ice. Nothing more could be done for 
hours ; but Polly resisted all her mother’s efforts 
to induce her to rest, and roamed excitedly up 
and down the rooms, now and again pausing to 
flick a few grains of dust from the mantel, or to 
rearrange one of the graceful bunches of flowers 
that decorated the house. 

“Now, Polly,” said Aunt Jane, at length, with 
an encouraging trust in human nature ; “ you’ll 
be utterly tired out to-morrow, and you know that 
always makes you cross. I really think you’d bet- 
ter go and lie down, or else sit down quietly and 
read.” 

But Polly scorned the suggestion. She was 
longing for the hour to come when she could retire 
to the kitchen. At length it came and, leaving 
her new spring gown spread on the bed, to be 
hastily put on at the last minute, she went running 
down the stairs. In the hall she paused, horror- 
stricken, as she heard a familiar voice from the 
next room, saying to her mother, — 

“ I always have heard say that his brother hadn’t 
enough principle to save even the little tail of his 
soul, but nobody ever thought the worse of Solo- 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


227 


mon Baxter for all that. Folks can’t help their 
relations ; it’s their friends that tells the story.” 

Miss Deborah Bean had come to dinner. 

With a sinking heart, Polly went on to the 
kitchen and sat down on one edge of the table, to 
collect her ideas. If anything did go wrong, she 
knew, from past experiences, that Miss Bean would 
not hesitate to mention the fact. But nothing 
should go wrong ; and as Polly gave the roast of 
beef a vigorous push ovenward, she resolved to do 
or die. When she went to bed that night, she felt 
that she had very nearly done both, the doing 
and the dying. 

In the first place, the fire obstinately refused to 
burn, and in working over that, Polly entirely 
forgot her vegetables until some time after they 
should have been put on to cook ; so the dinner 
was delayed for a long half-hour, while Polly was 
haunted by spectral visions of her guests falling 
from their chairs, in the faintness of slow starva- 
tion. At length all was ready, and leaving the 
girl to take up the tomato soup which Polly re- 
garded as her one infallible dish, she ran up-stairs 
to dress herself and appear before her expectant 
guests, with a flushed face and ruffled curls. 

If she had any misgivings as she marshalled her 


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friends to the table and pointed Miss Bean to an 
extra seat beside Florence, she certainly concealed 
them with a tact worthy of an older housekeeper. 
The truth was, Polly felt no uncertainty as to the 
beginning and the end of her feast. The soup had 
never failed her, the pudding she knew to be good ; 
so she could bear with the tough and stringy roast 
and the hard, lumpy potatoes with a fair grace. 
There was a hush of interested expectancy, as Polly 
dipped the ladle into the creamy, foamy soup. 
Then, when she poured it out into the plate, the 
conversation hastily started up again, but not so 
soon as to cover a sudden giggle from Alan, which 
he would have given worlds to recall when he saw 
Polly’s tragic expression, as she surveyed the thin, 
watery compound and the white lumps floating in it. 

The mothers present accepted their shares in 
silence and were heroically preparing to eat them, 
when Miss Bean was heard to speak. 

“ No, thank you,” she said, as she waved her 
plate away; “I don’t care for any; it don’t look 
very good. I reckon it wheyed a little mite, 
didn’t it ? ” she asked, turning to Mrs. Adams 
inquiringly. 

But the doctor mercifully led her off into a 
tide of reminiscence, and his daughter was spared 


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229 


for the time being. The dinner went on from 
bad to worse, but the guests were most polite, and 
tried their best to keep up a brisk conversation, 
while they nibbled at the underdone potatoes and 
picked at the overdone asparagus. Miss Bean 
alone was unconscious of the true state of affairs, 
for Mrs. Adams had thought it unnecessary to 
inform her of the cause for the party, and she 
commented with a perfect unconcern, ending 
with the final verdict, — 

“Well, Mis’ Adams, though I do say it that 
shouldn’t, I do think your cook has fallen off con- 
siderable since I was here before. No wonder 
Polly looks kind o’ peaked.” 

The sudden buzz of conversation rose again, as 
if to cover Polly’s confusion, while Alan gave her 
hand a sympathetic pinch under the tablecloth. 
However, Polly was supported through these 
trials by the thought of her final triumph when 
the pudding should appear. At last the meat was 
removed, and the clearing of the table was only 
interrupted by a quick cry of “ Scat ! ” from Mary, 
as she was taking the last plates from the room. 

“Now,” thought Polly, straightening up and 
raising her eyes defiantly, “now I’ll show them 
that there’s one thing I can do well, anyway.” 


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Alas for Polly ! Some one else had thought 
her pudding a success. It came in, borne by 
Mary, who set it down, disclosing a round hole in 
it, near one end of the dish, and bent to whisper 
in Polly’s ear. 

“What?” gasped Polly, as the bright color 
rushed into her cheeks, and then faded again. 

Mary repeated her whisper, more loudly this time, 
and the company plainly heard the one word cat . 

It was too true. The Adams cat was an animal 
of refined tastes and, preferring pudding to her 
ordinary diet of bread and milk, she had watched 
her chance when Mary’s back was turned, and 
mounting to the table, she had helped herself to 
the dainty dish, which was for the moment un- 
guarded. 

Tears stood in Polly’s eyes, and another minute 
would have brought them down in a shower, had 
not the doctor burst out laughing, as he ex- 
claimed, — 

“ It’s too bad, and I am sorry for you, Polly ; 
but I don’t believe we any of us ever enjoyed a 
dinner more than we have this one.” 

And Mrs. Hapgood added hastily, — 

“ Yes, and we mothers have all been through it 
ourselves so many times, too.” 



“Alas for Polly! Some one else had thought her pudding 

a success.” — Page 230. 






HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


231 


All this was like Hebrew to Miss Bean, who 
was at a loss to see why they should all be admin- 
istering comfort to Polly. But there could be 
no doubt that something was wrong, so she in- 
quired, with an air of stony censure, — 

“What is the matter, for the land sakes? If 
Polly can’t eat what’s set before her, she can go 
without.” 

That settled the question of Polly’s tears, and 
she began to laugh hysterically, while the others 
joined in until the dining-room rang with their 
mirth. 

“Well,” said the doctor, as he pushed back his 
chair, half an hour later ; “ if Florence takes the 
prize for the best cooking, Polly ought to have 
the one for the best entertainment.” 

The guests went away early, and Polly ran up- 
stairs to take off her best gown and slip on a 
comfortable dark blue wrapper. When she re- 
turned to the parlor, her mother was sitting in 
front of the fire, in a wide sleepy-hollow chair. 
She turned her head, as Polly entered the room. 

“ Come, dear,” she said ; “ there’s room for two 
here.” 

And Polly came. 

The motherly arm around her shoulders felt 


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very comforting to her just then ; and, like a 
little, tired child, she cried it all out, all the 
weariness and mortification and sense of failure. 
But while the tears were still falling, she began 
to laugh once more. 

“ Oh, Jerusalem Adams ! ” she said ; “ did you 
ever see anything so funny as Miss Bean was 
about my soup ? ” 

Her mother smiled, but before she had time to 
reply, Polly went on tragically, — 

“But wasn’t it all dreadful, mamma? Seems 
to me I never can look any of them in the face 
again, Mrs. Lang and all. And just when I 
thought I was going to be so smart and show off 
all I knew ! ” 

If Aunt Jane had been there, she would doubt- 
less have reminded Polly that pride must have a 
fall, and that this was a just reward for trying to 
outdo her friends. Mrs. Adams did no such thing, 
however. She only drew the curly head over 
against her shoulder and stroked it gently, as 
she said, with a half-laughing tenderness, — 

“ My poor little Polly ! You tried to do more 
than you had strength for. But, after all, it’s as 
true a side of life as Florence’s successful dinner 
was ; and every housekeeper must go through just 


HALF A DOZEN COOKS. 


233 


such experiences, again and again. You are no 
more likely to fail the next time, because your 
dinner to-day wasn’t a good one. It is only one 
of the unlucky days that we all must have.” 

“You, mamma?” And Polly raised her head 
in wonder. 

“Yes, I’ve had my fair share of just such 
times.” And Mrs. Adams laughed quietly, as she 
thought of similar chapters in her own house- 
keeping. Then she added, “But I was proud to 
see my little girl bear it so well, without breaking 
down or getting vexed at Miss Bean. That’s 
worth a dozen elegant dinners, Polly. But now 
it’s high time my cook was in bed and asleep, 
without a dream of soups or puddings or dis- 
agreeable guests who come uninvited. Some day 
you and I will have another dinner, and astonish 
the natives.” 

A few moments later, she followed Polly up- 
stairs to tuck the blankets around her and cuddle 
her, and kiss away the few tears that lay on her 
cheeks. Then she went back to the parlor, where 
she and her husband laughed heartily and long 
over Polly’s grand dinner party. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


ALAN AND POLLY HAVE A DRESS REHEARSAL. 

It was still in the early days of the cooking 
club, and February’s snows lay soft over the 
mountain sides, the smooth, open places throwing 
into bold relief the long rows of trees, which 
looked blue and hazy against their dazzling back- 
ground. The town was snow-covered, too, and 
the frozen river, and wherever one went, the 
air was full of the gay jingle-jangle of countless 
sleighbells, while the streets were thronged with 
a motley collection of equipages, from the luxu- 
riously upholstered double sleigh with its sway- 
ing robes and floating plumes, down to the 
shapeless home-made “ pung ” with its ragged, 
unlined buffalo skin snugly tucked in about the 
shawled and veiled grandma, who smilingly 
awaited her good man while he purchased the 
week’s supply of groceries. 

Such cold, clear days, such glorious sleighing 
were not to be resisted ; and on this particular 
Saturday afternoon, Katharine had driven around 
234 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


285 


with Cob, to take Mrs. Adams out for an hour 
or two, before time for her usual call on Bridget. 
The day had long passed when Job could be 
driven on the snow. Mrs. Adams had made one 
or two attempts in previous winters, but the 
poor old animal had toddled along so gingerly, 
slipping and sliding in every direction, that she 
had resigned herself to the inevitable, and put 
the old horse into winter quarters, much as she 
did her fan, or her lace bonnet. Such a course 
had its disadvantages, too, for the long time of 
standing in his stall stiffened up Job’s venerable 
joints to such an extent that it took him a large 
share of the summer to regain the free use of 
his members. However, Katharine had been 
very generous with Cob, and Mrs. Adams had 
had a fair share of the sleighing. That day, 
though she was in the midst of writing a letter 
when Katharine came, the gay little sleigh and 
the lively mustang proved too attractive, and she 
had thrown aside her pen and put on her fur 
coat without a moment’s hesitation. 

Polly had gone down to the hospital that after- 
noon. Her cooking in the morning had been so 
successful that she had begged to be allowed to 
take a taste of it to Bridget ; so, with a little bas- 


236 


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ket in one hand and a carefully arranged posy in 
the other, she had gone away down the street, soon 
after lunch. Once there, she had lingered, chat- 
ting with Bridget, who was in an unusually dis- 
mal frame of mind, owing to a letter which had 
come that morning, telling her that the youngest 
child she had left had suddenly developed a frac- 
tious turn of mind, and that her temporary 
guardian was 44 kilt entirely wid the care of her.” 
Naturally enough, this news was preying upon 
Bridget, and when Polly went in, she found her 
resolving to leave the hospital and all the good it 
was doing her, and go home to see to the unman- 
ageable infant. For this reason, Polly had stayed 
for some time, soothing Bridget’s anxiety and 
trying to distract her mind from her worries by 
telling her all the funny stories she could re- 
member or invent. By degrees Bridget’s face 
brightened, and, charmed with her success, Polly 
talked on and on till the clock in the church 
tower near by chimed three. Then she rose in 
haste, surprised to find it so late. 

“I don’t care if ’tis three,” she said to herself, 
as she went along the corridor ; 44 I’ll just look in 
on the babies now I’m here. I haven’t been near 
them for an age.” 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


237 


As she turned in at the door of the children’s 
ward, what was her astonishment to find Alan 
sitting there, quite at his ease, surrounded by half 
a dozen small boys who were in a high state of 
glee over this new playfellow. 

“What! You here?” And Polly’s face grew 
expressionless with her amazement. 

“ I seem to be, don’t I ? ” responded Alan, a 
little shamefaced at being caught, while he care- 
fully set down the four-year-old urchin on his 
knee and rose to join her, regardless of the protes- 
tations of his small hosts. 

“You see,” he went on, as they walked away 
down the corridor together ; “ I thought it would 
be a good scheme to have a full dress rehearsal of 
our scenes in the play, so I went to your house, 
bag and baggage. They told me that you weren’t 
at home, that you’d gone on an errand to Bridget, 
so I followed on after you. I waited round outside 
for a good while ; but it was so cold that I nearly 
froze, so I rang the bell and asked if you were here. 
You were such a forever-lasting time that I’d begun 
to think you had gone out by some other door.” 

“No danger of that,” returned Polly, as he 
paused. “ I’m a snob and only take the front 
door. But go on ; what did you do then ? ” 


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“ I asked if you were here,” the boy resumed ; 
“ and the woman said you were, and took me up 
into that room, for she said I could see you go past 
the door when you came out. I don’t see what 
possessed her to put me in there, and I hadn’t any 
idea of taking any notice of those babies, but some- 
how or other they got round me.” 

There was an apologetic tone to Alan’s voice 
as he spoke the last words, which made Polly say 
heartily, — 

“ I am so glad they did, Alan. They don’t often 
get hold of a boy in there, and they’ll remember 
it ever and ever so long. It won’t hurt you any, 
just for once, and it delighted them.” 

“ I hope it did,” said Alan, frankly adding, “ I 
did feel no end silly, though, when you came out 
and caught me at it, playing child’s nurse.” 

“I wonder why it is,” returned Polly reflec- 
tively, as they went down the steps, “ that a man 
always acts ashamed of doing what a woman is 
expected to do, day in and day out. I don’t see 
why we shouldn’t take turns and mix things up.” 

They walked along in silence for a little way. 
Alan’s chin and ears were buried in his wide coat- 
collar, but the part of his face that showed was 
very sober. 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


239 


“I say, Polly,” he said suddenly; “you don’t 
know how kind of squirmy it made me feel, in 
there to-day, with all those little fellows, the one 
with the brace on his ankle, and the one with his 
eye tied up where they’d taken out a piece, and all 
the rest of them. I couldn’t stand it to just sit 
there and stare at them, as if they were a show ; 
that was too mean, when I couldn’t do anything 
to help them out. What’s the use of it all, any 
way ? ” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Polly, as 
she tucked her mittened hand confidingly down 
into his, as it lay in the side pocket of his over- 
coat. “ I felt just the same way when I began to 
go, last fall ; but now I’m used to it, and don’t 
mind so much.” 

“But what’s the use, I’d like to know?” per- 
sisted Alan. 

“ What’s the use of your having so much rheu- 
matism in your bones ? ” responded Polly, answer- 
ing question with question. 

“ How should I know ? ” returned Alan. “ To 
make me cross as a bear, and give mother some- 
thing to worry about, as much as anything, I 
suppose.” 

“ I don’t believe that’s all the reason,” said Polly 


240 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


seriously ; “ but as long as these things are round, 
and have to be, just think how splendid it must be 
to be a doctor ! ” 

In spite of himself, Alan shivered at the thought. 
The scenes of the past hour had made a strong im- 
pression on his quick, sensitive nature. 

“ No,” he said, “ I don’t want to spend my whole 
time among such things. It would be dreadful, 
Poll.” 

“ I don’t think so,” said Polly energetically, as 
she snatched at the blue cap which a sudden gust 
of wind was lifting from her curls. “I don’t 
want to be one myself, but I’m glad papa is a 
doctor, and I’ve always wished I had a brother 
to be one, too. I know the side of it you mean, 
Alan, and it is dreadful at first; but after a little, 
you’d get used to that, and I think there could be 
nothing grander than to spend all your life in 
mending broken bones, and cutting people to 
pieces to take out bad places, and helping them 
to grow all strong and well. I’d rather be a real 
good doctor than the President in the White 
House, and I don’t believe but what I’d do more 
good.” 

While she was speaking, Alan watched her with 
admiration, for her eyes had grown dark and deep, 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


241 


and her whole face was alive with the earnestness 
of her words. 

“You ought to have been a nurse, Poll,” he 
said, when she had finished her outburst. “ That’s 
what makes you so nice and comfortable when 
I’m sick. I’d rather have you than Molly any 
day. But don’t let’s talk about it any longer ; I 
can’t keep those poor babies out of my head. 
They just seem to stick there.” 

“ Go to see them again, and perhaps they 
won’t,” suggested Polly quickly. 

“ I’ll see about it,” said Alan ; “ but it strikes 
me I had enough of it this morning to last me for 
one while.” And he lapsed into silence once 
more, while Polly eyed him stealthily, trying to 
read his thought. 

When he spoke again, it was on an entirely 
different subject, and with an evident effort to 
dismiss the matter from his mind. Polly did her 
best to fall in with his mood, with an instinctive 
feeling that, boy-fashion, Alan did not care to put 
into words all that he thought; so by the time 
they reached the house, they were lightly dis- 
cussing all sorts of unimportant matters ; the 
weather, the sleighing, their play, and even Job, 
and Alan had thrown off his momentary serious- 
ness and become as gay as ever. 


242 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


44 Where did you put your war-paint and feath- 
ers ? ” asked Polly, as they ran up the steps, rosy 
and breathless from facing the strong wind. 

44 My war-paint, ma’am ! It’s yours. I’m a civi- 
lized white man, named Smith,” returned Alan, 
as he pulled off his coat in the hall. 44 1 left them 
in a corner of the dining-room.” 

44 I’ll get them.” And Polly vanished. 

44 You see,” Alan went on, as she reappeared. 
44 We know our parts well enough, I suppose; but 
I wanted to get used to seeing you in full rig, 
before the time came. I was afraid, if you sud- 
denly appeared to me, I should laugh and spoil 
our best scene.” 

44 Don’t you dare do that!” returned Polly 
sternly. 44 If you laugh, I’ll let J ean cut off your 
head, and not try to save you. But it’s a good 
idea to have a chance to go through it, while we 
are all alone by ourselves. Our parts are best of 
all, and I want to do them as well as we can for 
Jean’s sake, she has taken so much pains to write 
it up.” 

“Yes,” added the captain ungratefully, “and 
I’d like to have you try over that rushing out 
and tumbling down on top of me. The last time 
you did it, you nearly knocked the breath out 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


243 


of my body. You’d better go a little slower, 
Poll, or you’ll kill me as surely as Jean would, — 
and I don’t know but what her way would be 
about as comfortable as yours.” 

“We’ve plenty of time and the house to our- 
selves,” said Polly meekly ; “ so we can try it 
over and over, till I get it right.” 

“ What a prospect ! ” groaned Alan. “ When 
we get through, you’ll have to take me to the 
hospital and put me in with those youngsters, 
where I was to-day.” 

“ All right,” returned Polly, laughing ; “ but if 
I ever do kill you, don’t expect me to tell of it. 
Now let’s come up into mamma’s room and dress 
in front of her long mirror.” 

The dressing was a prolonged and hilarious 
operation, for - each in turn helped the other to 
don his costume, stopping now and then to burst 
out laughing at the results of their labors. Alan, 
it is true, made a very attractive young captain, 
though, with a fine disregard for dates, he was 
attired in the moth-eaten, faded uniform with 
tarnished brass buttons and epaulettes which one 
of his ancestors had worn during the Revolution- 
ary War. But the ancestor had been several 
sizes larger than his nineteenth century descend- 


244 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


ant, and the uniform lay in generous folds over 
the back and shoulders, and was turned up at 
wrist and ankle, while the great cocked hat, 
pushed back to show the yellow hair in front, 
rested on the boy’s shoulders behind. However, 
a truer, tenderer, more valiant heart never beat 
in old-time captain, than was throbbing in Alan’s 
breast that day, when he held forlorn little Dicky 
Morris on his knee. 

But Polly! In arranging her costume, the 
girls had let their individual tastes have full 
sway, and beyond the general notion that Indians 
like bright color, they had paid no attention to 
the traditional ideas of dress among the noble 
red men. Pocahontas, as she is usually pictured 
in her quill-embroidered tunic and dull, heavy 
mantle, would have laughed outright at the ap- 
pearance of this vision of silk and satin, of purple 
and scarlet and vivid green, which was solemnly 
parading up and down the room, in all the enjoy- 
ment of her finery. 

“ ’Tis splendid, isn’t it, Alan ? ” she asked, turn- 
ing, with a purely feminine delight, to survey her 
long red satin train as it swept about her feet. 

Alan looked at her doubtfully. 

“ Why, yes ; it’s very splendid, Poll, but some- 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


245 


how it doesn’t look much like an Indian. I didn’t 
know they wore satin trails a mile long.” 

Polly’s brow clouded. 

“ But princesses do, Alan, and I’m a princess, 
just as much as I’m an Indian. It’s such fun to 
wear this. Don’t you suppose it will do ? ” 

“ Yes, perhaps,” said Alan, with an heroic disre- 
gard of the truth. “ It isn’t just like the pictures; 
but you look first-rate in it, honestly, Poll. Now 
let me fix your head.” 

Polly beamed under his praise, and dropped 
into a chair where she sat passive until he had fas- 
tened on the lofty coronet of feathers which 
would have formed an honorable decoration for 
the brow of a Sioux brave. A little red chalk 
supplied the complexion, and a few dashes of blue 
on the cheeks and forehead added what Alan was 
pleased to term “a little style” to the whole. 
Then Polly sprang up, caught her skirt in both 
hands, and dropped a sweeping courtesy to her 
friend, saying merrily, — 

“ Prythee, how now, Captain Smith ; is it well 
with thee ? ” 

And the bold captain returned, in some em- 
barrassment, as he removed his wide-spreading 
hat, — 


246 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Yes’m. Same to yon, ma’am.” 

There was something at once so quaint and so 
ridiculous in the pair, that they gazed at each 
other for a moment, and then, sinking down on 
the floor regardless of their finery, they burst out 
laughing. 

44 Oh, Alan, you’re so absurd ! ” gasped Polly. 

44 You’re another,” responded Alan; “only 
you’re worse.” And they went off into a fresh 
paroxysm of giggles. 

At last Polly sprang up with decision. 

44 How silly you are, Alan ! ” she said, as she 
marched up to the glass once more. 

44 Am I ? ” inquired Alan meekly. 44 How do 
you like the looks, Polly?” 

Polly stared at herself closely and long, and a 
scornful expression gathered about her lips. 

“It doesn’t match,” she said concisely, as she 
turned away. 

It certainly did not. The face and head-dress, 
suggestive of the free, roving life of the plains, 
rose above a gown which was only suited to 
comic opera. Clearly, Pocahontas had made a 
mistake when she arranged her costume. 

44 What shall we do about it ? ” she asked dis- 
consolately, as she faced Alan once more. 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


247 


“ Do ? If I were in your place I’d get myself 
up as a real genuine Pocahontas, and not go trail- 
ing around in any such trumpery as that,” re- 
turned Alan, scornfully kicking at the end of the 
train, as it lay across his toes. 

“ I suppose it would be better,” said Polly 
faintly. “ This doesn’t seem to suit the part very 
well, but I did want to wear it.” And she gazed 
regretfully down at her despised finery. 

“ I’ll tell you what,” suggested Alan, “ why 
not wear this when you are at court? You’ll have 
your face washed and your feathers off there, and 
this will be just the thing. When you first come 
on, you can have a real Indian dress. How would 
that go ? ” 

“ Good, Alan ! ” And Polly swept up and down 
the room once more, watching her train, over her 
shoulder, and listening with a rapturous counte- 
nance to the silken swish of her skirts. 

“Now,” said Alan, who was beginning to be 
tired of the question of dress, “ let’s begin and go 
over our scenes.” 

“We ought to have Jean here,” said Polly, as 
she regretfully turned away from the mirror. 

“ No matter, we can do a good deal as ’tis. 
Let’s take this end of the room for a stage.” And 


248 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Alan stretched himself out on the floor, prepared 
to die heroically, and began a sentimental speech 
of farewell to his distant home and friends. 

“ Now, Poll, we’ll leave out what comes next. 
Your word is 4 And so farewell ! Let the fatal 
drop fall ! ’ ” 

The most critical audience could have found no 
fault with the way Polly rushed in and cast her- 
self upon the neck of the valiant captain, while she 
alternately defied her father, the irate Powhatan, 
and in elaborate broken English, cooed loving 
words into the ear of her “own dear John,” who 
lay coughing and strangling in her clutches. As 
soon as he could regain his breath, he responded 
as a gallant Englishman should, and the scene 
went on smoothly, with many a coquettish bit of 
by-play on Polly’s part, and a stern resolve, on the 
captain’s side, to reduce it all to the footing of 
high tragedy. 

“ That went well ! ” said Polly, when they had 
reached their closing tableau, with John Smith on 
his knees, kissing the French kid shoe of Pocahon- 
tas. “I do hope it will go all right next week, 
for mamma says we may each invite four people, 
and I don’t want to fail.” 

“ We’re going to have it here, after all, are 
we ? ” asked Alan. 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


249 


“ Yes. Florence wanted it, but her mother 
wasn’t willing, so we’re going to use the library 
for a stage, and put the people in the parlor. 1 1 
will hold ever so many, that way. Tuesday night 
we’re going to rehearse it there.” 

“I wish we could try our parts there, now,” 
said Alan. 

“Why not do it?” asked Polly. “We can, 
just as well as not, for there isn’t a soul in the 
house but ourselves. Come on.” And she led 
the way to the head of the stairs. 

“Sure there isn’t anybody there?” asked Alan. 

“ Nobody, I am certain.” 

“ All right, here goes, then.” And followed by 
Polly, Alan raced down the stairs, singing at the 
top of his lungs, — 

“ ‘ Oh, my wife and my dear children ! 

Oh, the deaths they both did die ! 

One got lost, and one got drownded, 

And one got choked on pumpkin pie! * 

Hi-yi-whoop-ee /” he added, with a threatening war- 
whoop, as he opened the parlor door and dashed in. 

There, side by side on the sofa, sat Aunt Jane 
and Mr. Solomon Baxter, looking up in surprise 
at the vision which had suddenly burst in upon 
their quiet conversation. 


250 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


The children stopped abruptly, just across the 
threshold, and gazed in speechless horror, first at 
Aunt Jane and her caller, then at each other. 
For a moment, no one made any attempt to speak. 
Alan was the first to recover his senses. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Roberts,” he said, ad- 
vancing, hat in hand, with one of his peculiarly 
bright, attractive smiles. “ I hope we haven’t 
disturbed you, but Polly said there wasn’t any- 
body here.” 

Aunt Jane relaxed nothing of her rigidity, and 
Mr. Baxter answered for her, in an excited, nerv- 
ous tone, while he waved his cane on which he 
had hung his stiff black hat, as if in grotesque 
imitation of his own long, lean body, — 

“ What in the world are you children doing, 
anyway, making such a noise ? Polly — that’s 
your name, isn’t it? — you look as if you’d just 
come out of the mad-house.” 

In her astonishment at finding the parlor occu- 
pied, Polly had forgotten all about her remarkable 
gown, her ruddy countenance, and her towering 
headgear. Now, at the sudden recollection of it, 
she blushed until it was visible even under the 
chalk, and gave a vigorous pull, in the hope of 
removing her coronet, while she said penitently, — 


A DRESS REHEARSAL. 


251 


“I truly didn’t know you were here, Aunt Jane. 
We were going to rehearse part of the play, 
and — ” 

“ That will do, Polly,” interrupted Aunt Jane 
stonily ; “ you needn’t say any more about it. 
Go and get me a glass of water. Solo — Mr. 
Baxter, wouldn’t you like some, too ? ” 

“ Calls him Solo — Mr. Baxter, does she ! ” re- 
marked Alan, as the door closed behind the cul- 
prits. “ Depend on it, Poll, there’s something up 
in that quarter.” 

“ I wonder if there is,” said Polly. “ I’m sorry 
for him, if it’s true. But, Alan, think of our rush- 
ing in on them, looking like a pair of heathen, and 
that song and all ! How could we ! ” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 

The next Monday noon, Polly stood on the top 
of a tall step-ladder, with the hose in her hand, 
washing off the parlor blinds. It was a warm, 
clear day, so warm that there was no possible dis- 
comfort in her work, and yet Polly was in a state 
of great disgust over her present employment. If 
it had been the back blinds, even ! But to Polly, 
it seemed that her position on the ladder, within 
full view of the street, was extremely undignified, 
and she had protested vigorously when her 
mother sent her out. 

“ It won’t take but a few minutes, Polly,” Mrs. 
Adams had said; “and they need it badly. 
There’s no knowing when we shall have another 
day that is warm enough, so run right out and 
do it now.” 

Polly went, for she dared not disobey ; but she 
went with a frowning face, and after she had 
slammed the door behind her, she further freed her 
mind by remarking, with incautious emphasis, — 
252 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


253 


“ I don’t care, I think it’s too mean ! ” 

Of course Aunt Jane chanced to be passing 
along through the hall, just then. She stopped 
directly in Polly’s pathway and said, with deliber- 
ate, cutting severity, — 

“ Think your mamma is mean ! Why, Polly 
Adams, I am surprised at you ! I shall feel it my 
duty to speak to your mother about this.” 

Then Polly lost all self-control. 

“ I think you’re meaner than she is ! ” And the 
outside door banged even more loudly than the 
other had done. 

By the time she was on the steps, Polly longed 
to sit down and cry. Her temples were throbbing 
violently, and her throat felt swollen and aching. 
There were days when everything seemed to go 
wrong, she thought desperately ; she had gone to 
school feeling so happy, that morning, but she had 
torn her gown at recess, and had failed in her his- 
tory lesson, and now she must go out and wash 
those hateful old blinds. Well, some day when 
she was all nicely dead of overwork and too many 
scoldings, she knew they’d be sorry. Who the 
they in question were, she did not stop to analyze, 
but, forcing back the angry tears, she went away 
in search of the step-ladder. Soon she returned, 


254 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


dragging it after her and bumping it with unnec- 
essary force against all the trees and corners of 
the house in her way, and, planting it in position, 
she slowly mounted to the top, hose in hand. She 
was just balanced up there, when she saw Alan 
come in through the gate. 

“ Hullo ! What you up to, Poll ?” he called. 

“I should think you might be able to see for 
yourself,” replied Polly, with dignity. 

Alan surveyed her in astonishment, then 
asked, — 

“ Can’t I help you? ” 

“ No ! ” snapped Polly shortly. 

The boy gave a long, low whistle, the meaning 
of which was so obvious as to be anything but 
soothing to Polly’s ruffled feelings. 

“ Got a pain in your temper ? Didn’t you 
sleep well last night?” he inquired, with mock 
sympathy. 

Polly vouchsafed no reply. 

“Perhaps you lay awake to write another 
poem,” he .went on. “How was it, it went: 
‘ The children went chestnutting — ’ ? ” 

What unlucky chance had implanted in Alan’s 
mind the spirit of teasing, and in Polly’s, at the 
same moment, the spirit of perversity? What- 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


255 


ever was the cause, the result was the same ; and 
Polly, in her present mood, could not endure 
this slighting reference to her poem which she 
had fondly imagined was a secret between Molly 
and herself. Her face grew white to the very 
lips, as she faced the lad below. 

“ Alan Hapgood ! ” she exclaimed ; “ what right 
have you to say so? If you don’t keep still, I’ll 
turn the water on you.” 

“ All right,” said the boy composedly, never 
dreaming how excited she really was ; “ fire 
ahead, if ’twill give you any satisfaction. I 
suppose poets are always rather peppery.” 

The next instant, the strong, full jet of icy 
cold water struck him directly in the chest. 
Polly’s aim was accurate, the force of the water 
great, so a few seconds had drenched the boy 
from his neck to his shoes. How long it might 
have lasted was uncertain, but a hasty misstep 
sent Polly head foremost to the ground, where 
she lay for an instant, stunned by her fall. Un- 
mindful of his wetting, Alan ran to her side. 

“ Polly, are you hurt ? Where is it ? ” he ex- 
claimed. 

But Polly sprang up fiercely. 

“ Go away, Alan ! You needn’t come here 


256 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


again till I send for you.” And she ran into 
the house, and up to the safe refuge of her own 
room. 

Once there, in quiet and alone, she quickly 
came to her senses and realized, with a horrible 
fear, all that she had done, all that it might yet 
do. It was her first serious quarrel with Alan, and 
for such a little cause she had turned upon her 
favorite companion. And then, with his rheu- 
matism, what effect would the wetting have on 
him? Filled with this unbearable anxiety, she 
submitted to her mother’s reproof for her words 
to Aunt Jane, without making any attempt to 
excuse herself, and silently left the house, with- 
out telling the secret of her last, worst outbreak. 
Lessons had begun, when she entered the school- 
room, and as she seated herself, she stole a quick 
glance at Alan’s place. It was vacant. 

She had no opportunity to see Molly alone, 
that afternoon, and no mention of Alan was made. 
After school, she walked quickly home without 
waiting for the girls, and taking up a book, she 
sat for an hour, not speaking, not reading a word, 
but with her eyes fixed on the roof of the Hap- 
good house, going over and over the scenes of the 
noon, longing to run to Alan and beg his for- 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


257 


giveness, yet too proud to do so, so soon. How 
she wanted to tell her mother the whole story, 
and ask her how to undo the harm she had done ! 
But she dreaded to see her mother’s shocked, 
pained face, so she held her peace. The long 
hours till bedtime slowly dragged away, and for 
once Polly went up-stairs without her usual good- 
night talk. But, for some reason, sleep would 
not come to her, even then. Instead of that, she 
lay with wide-open eyes, staring into the darkness 
and picturing Alan as she saw him turn away, 
with the cold water dripping from his clothing. 
Suddenly she heard the bell ring sharply, vio- 
lently. Springing out of bed, she stole noiselessly 
to the head of the stairs to listen, sure that it 
was a message of bad news. She was not mis- 
taken, for she heard Molly’s voice saying hur- 
riedly, — 

“ Can Dr. Adams come right away ? Alan is 
terribly ill.” 

Yes, he was ill, and perhaps he was going to die, 
and she had done it ! Polly fled desperately back 
to bed and, pulling the blankets tightly over her 
head to smother the sound, she burst out crying as 
she had never before cried in her life, crying with 
shame for herself and sorrow for her boy friend. 


258 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


As soon as her first outburst was over, she raised 
herself on her elbow and strained her ears to 
listen for the sound of her father’s return, con- 
vinced that he must and would bring good news. 
It was nothing serious, she reasoned, they were 
unnecessarily alarmed, for it would be too unjust 
for Alan to be ill, when she alone had been the 
one to blame. 

It was long that her father was gone. A dozen 
times Polly had been sure that she heard his steps, 
but the moments dragged on and on, without 
bringing him. At length the door opened and 
he entered. Polly was out of bed in an instant 
and crouching at the head of the stairs, shivering 
with cold and fear, while she waited to hear his 
first words to her mother. She thought he would 
never get his coat off and go into the parlor. 
When he did, she heard something that seemed to 
stop her breath. 

“ I’ve only just pulled Alan through, to-night,” 
the doctor was saying to his wife. “ When I went 
in, I thought there wasn’t much chance for him ; 
but the worst is over, for the present.” 

“ What was it ? ” asked his wife anxiously. 

“ Acute pneumonia, as much as anything,” 
answered the doctor; “but it’s mixed up with his 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


259 


rheumatism till he’s a poor, forlorn little bundle of 
aches and pains. They sent for me just in time, 
too. If they’d waited till morning, we should 
have lost our Alan.” 

“ What brought it on ? ” asked Mrs. Adams, and 
her voice was a little unsteady as she spoke. 

“That is the strangest part of it,” replied her 
husband. “ He came in this noon, dripping wet, 
and Mrs. Hapgood hasn’t been able to make him 
tell what had happened.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! ” 

The doctor and his wife both started up, at the 
sound of the strange, stifled voice. In the door 
directly behind them stood Polly, barefooted and 
with her teeth chattering violently, while her face 
was so swollen with tears as to be almost unrecog- 
nizable. 

“ Polly ! ” 

Mrs. Adams sprang towards her, but Polly 
waved her off. 

“ Don’t touch me, mamma ! Don’t kiss me, 
till you know all about it, what I’ve done ! I’m 
to blame about Alan.” 

Without speaking Mrs. Adams caught up the 
afghan from the sofa and wrapped it closely about 
her daughter. Then, leading her to the bright 


260 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


wood fire, she sat down before it and took Polly 
into her lap, as if she had been a little child. 
The gentleness of her manner, the unspoken sym- 
pathy for some trouble which she did not yet 
know, had started Polly’s tears to flowing again, 
and for a long time she could only cling to her 
mother and sob, with her head against the soft, 
warm cheek and a loving arm about her shoulders. 

For some moments, the quiet of the room was 
only broken by the measured ticking of the clock 
on the mantel and the snapping of the fire on the 
andirons. At length Mrs. Adams said gently, — 
“Now, Polly, tell me all about it.” 

And Polly told, sparing herself in no way, but 
giving all the details with a merciless truthful- 
ness, and ending, with a sob, — 

“And after all that, mamma, he tried to help 
me up when I fell, and I drove him off, and now 
— Oh, what shall I do ! Scold me, if you want 
to ; you ought to ! I tried to tell you before, but I 
couldn’t.” 

Mrs. Adams’s arms grew tighter about her 
daughter, while she said gravely, very gravely, — 
“ Polly, dear, I am much too sorry for you, to 
scold you.” 

As she spoke, the doctor rose quietly and left 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


261 


the room, for he felt that what would follow was 
for mother and daughter alone, and even he had 
no right to sit by and listen to their words. 

“I am sorry for you, dear,” her mother went 
on, after a moment ; “ not so much for what you 
are suffering now, as I am because, little by little, 
you have let your temper get the better of you 
until to-day, for just this trifle, you have forgotten 
yourself entirely. The pain you have borne to- 
night on Alan’s account is only a blessing to you, 
the natural punishment for what you have done, 
and it will help you to remember this another 
time, when you are angry. Each one of these 
fits of temper leaves a scar, Polly, that nothing 
can ever entirely heal ; and I want no such scars 
on my Polly’s womanhood, which must be above 
reproach. You are very dear to me, my daughter, 
and my whole life is bound up in my hopes for 
your future.” 

“ Oh, how can I remember ! ” sobbed Polly. “ It 
is all over, so in a minute, and then I just hate 
myself, but it doesn’t do the least bit of good.” 

“ It can’t be done in a day, Polly ; it will take 
years and years ; perhaps it may be the work of a 
whole lifetime. But if, by watching yourself and 
struggling to keep back the quick words that come 


262 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


to you, after long years you could cure this 
temper, wouldn’t the 4 well done ’ be yours just as 
truly as if, for instance, you went on some mission 
abroad? It is often far more to rule yourself, 
than it is to spend your life working among the 
poor and wicked, and takes more courage and self- 
denial. That may be the work which is laid out 
for my little daughter, and I pray that she may do 
it bravely and well, so that in time I may be as 
proud and happy in my Polly as I now am fond of 
her.” 

As her mother spoke, she rested her face against 
Polly’s curls, and one bright tear sparkled among 
the soft little rings. Then she resumed, — 

“ And now, about Alan. I shall not scold you, 
Polly, for your punishment has come, as it always 
does, and is hard enough to bear, without my add- 
ing a word. But the danger was great, and you 
have only just escaped the most terrible sorrow 
that can ever come to any human being. Still, 
Alan is very ill, and may ba for a long, long time 
to come. Anything that you can do, to make up 
to him for this, must be at once your duty and 
your pleasure, and I know that you will feel it to 
be so.” 

The talk lasted for a long time, until the fire 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


263 


burned out into cold, white ashes, and Polly 
shivered in her mother’s arms. When she went 
up-stairs again, Mrs. Adams went with her, and 
always after the last quiet words in the dark, 
silent room, Polly felt a new reverence for her 
mother which never left her in the future years. 

Polly went down-stairs to breakfast, the next 
morning, filled with gloomy forebodings, for she 
feared Aunt Jane’s sharp glances and sharper 
words. But the doctor had had a plain, decided 
talk with Miss Roberts, the evening before, and 
had forbidden her to allude to Polly’s trouble, so 
for once Aunt Jane held her peace. Soon after 
they left the table, Polly appeared before her 
mother, with her coat and cap on. 

“ I’m going, mamma ! ” 

“Where?” inquired Mrs. Adams, in some sur- 
prise. 

“ To Mrs. Hapgood’s,” answered Polly, nerving 
herself to speak steadily. “ I think I ought to tell 
her what I did to Alan, for he’s keeping it a 
secret to save me, and she ought to know. Be- 
sides, I must hear how he is.” 

Mrs. Adams made no attempt to dissuade her, 
and Polly went down the street, walking more and 
more slowly as she neared the house, for she felt 


264 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


her courage fast leaving her. At the gate she 
paused to glance up at the window of Alan’s 
room. The shades were drawn down, and no 
familiar boy face appeared there, to give her a 
welcome. How she dreaded to go in ! The cold, 
raw wind swept past her, as she stood there, and 
it seemed to Polly that the day was strangely in 
harmony with her life, just then, for the warm, 
bright air of the morning before had given place 
to dull, heavy clouds which lay in long, low ban- 
ners along the mountain side. As she looked up 
at the window above, she felt a strong, unreason- 
ing desire to turn again and run away towards 
home ; but just then the side door below opened 
softly, and Mrs. Hapgood stepped out on the 
piazza. 

“ Come in, my dear,” she said. “ I have good 
news for you; Alan had a fairly comfortable 
night, and now he is asleep.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Hapgood ! ” And Polly told her the 
story in an excited, breathless fashion, with the 
same unhesitating truth she had shown in talking 
to her mother. 

If Mrs. Adams had been kind, so was Mrs. Hap- 
good, as well. She spoke no word of blame, but 
gathered the forlorn little figure into her arms, 


POLLY’S DARK DAY. 


265 


and soothed and comforted the child with assur- 
ances of her forgiveness and Alan’s, too. 

“Now, Polly,” she said, as she rose, “I must 
go back up-stairs to my boy again. And if I were 
in your place, I would let this matter rest a secret 
between ourselves, your parents and Alan. 1 
promise you that Molly and the other girls shall 
never know. But I am glad that you felt you 
could come and tell me about it. We will hope 
we can have Alan down-stairs before many days, 
and then you must run in to see him.” 

Two days later, a note came for Polly, just as 
she was starting for school. 

“ Alan wants to see you,” it said ; “ come in for 
a few minutes.” 

Polly needed no second bidding, but hurried 
away, glad at the thought of seeing her friend 
once more. Mrs. Hapgood saw her coming and 
met her at the door, to lead her up-stairs to Alan’s 
room. The boy was propped up with pillows, and 
his face looked rather white and worn, but it 
lighted as Polly entered, and he stretched out his 
hand to her eagerly. 

“ Hullo, Poll ! ” he exclaimed. “ Pm no end 
glad to see you.” 

Mrs. Hapgood had left them alone together, but 


266 


HALF A BOZEN GIRLS. 


Polly did not stop to notice that, as she darted 
impulsively to the bed, saying, — 

“ Oh, Alan ! ” 

Alan understood, but, being a boy, he only 
squeezed her hand between his, as he said 
lightly, — 

“ Bother all that stuff, Polly ! Molly was 
mean to tell, and I was meaner to laugh at you, 
so I deserved to have my face washed. I sent for 
you because I knew you’d hear I was sick and 
worry about it. I didn’t mean anybody to know, 
though.” 

When Mrs. Hapgood came back again, after a 
few moments, she found Polly sitting beside the 
bed, with a happier face than she had worn since 
the memorable Monday noon, while Alan looked 
as blissful as she ; and when Polly took her de- 
parture, a little later, the boy called after her, — 

“ Come again as soon as you can, Poll. You’re 
a jolly little nurse, and I like to have you round.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE PLAY. 

It was the last week in March, and the time 
had finally come for giving the long-discussed 
play, which had been delayed for some weeks on 
account of Alan’s illness. After the first acute 
attack had passed, there followed, as a result of 
his drenching, a slow, tedious form of rheumatism 
which kept him shut up in the house, where he 
was forced to amuse himself as best he might. 
His sister and cousins did what they could to 
make the time pass quickly and pleasantly; but 
between school and their cooking club and their 
frequent calls on Bridget, they had little time for 
the boy except during the evenings, and he was 
mainly left to the society of his mother. This 
had been the state of affairs for more than a week, 
and Alan was becoming somewhat restless. He 
was not a saint, but only one of the next best 
things, a bright, lovable boy; and having rather 
exhausted his resources of reading, playing soli- 
taire, and talking to his mother, the evening usu- 

267 


268 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


ally found him decidedly cross after his dull day, 
and he only half responded to the girls’ attempts to 
be entertaining. 

“I don’t see what’s come over Alan,” said 
Molly, one afternoon, as the girls were walking 
home from school together. “ He’s always been 
so jolly, and now he’s cross as can be. He doesn’t 
act as if he wanted to have anything to say to us, 
and goes off to bed as soon as he can, after supper. 
I told him last night I thought he’d better be 
ashamed of himself.” 

As Molly spoke, they were just passing the 
Hapgood house. Polly glanced up at Alan’s 
window, in the wing, to see the back of a yellow 
head, inside the glass. Molly followed the direction 
of her eyes, and said, by way of explanation, — 

“Alan’s not down-stairs to-day. He said he 
didn’t feel like it.” 

“He isn’t?” 

Polly paused irresolutely at the gate, then 
turned in. 

“What are you going to do, Polly?” asked 
Florence. 

“ Pm going up to see Alan,” responded Polly. 

“ But I thought we were all going down to see 
Bridget.” 


THE PLAY. 


269 


“Bother Bridget!” returned Polly, with some 
energy. “ The rest of you can go all the time, if 
you want to ; but it’s my impression that charity 
begins at home. Here we’ve all of us had that 
everlasting old Bridget on the brain, and let Alan 
get along as best he can.” 

“ But Alan has mamma, and Bridget hasn’t any- 
body but us,” said Molly, in a virtuous tone of 
self-denial. 

“I don’t care if she hasn’t,” retorted Polly 
vehemently ; “ she has five of you to coddle her, 
and you just go there because you like the fun 
and think it sounds goody. There are enough of 
you without me, and one of you can take my 
afternoon, till Alan gets better.” 

“ That’s just like Polly,” said Molly teasingly. 
“ She always has liked boys better than girls.” 

Polly’s face flushed. 

“You know that’s not so, Molly! I’ve done 
my fair share with Bridget, but now I think it 
isn’t just right to go chasing off after her when 
we’re leaving Alan all alone. If you knew — ” 
Polly checked herself abruptly, then added more 
quietly, “ I’ll tell you what, girls, it isn’t like 
Alan to be cross, and if he is, there’s some good 
reason for it, so I think it’s our place to find out 


270 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


what’s the matter.” And turning away, she went 
into the house, leaving her companions to go on 
to the hospital discussing, as they walked along, 
“ Polly’s last freak.” 

She stopped a moment to speak to Mrs. Hap- 
good, then ran directly up-stairs and looked in at 
the partly open door. Alan was half sitting, half 
lying on the sofa, with his book dropped, face 
downward, on his knee, and his hands clasped at 
the back of his head. Too much absorbed in his 
thoughts to notice her light step, his face was 
turned away from the door, and he was scowling 
moodily at a distant corner of the ceiling. 

“ May I come in, or are you making up a poem 
and don’t want to be disturbed ? ” inquired Polly 
gaily, pushing the door wide open. 

The boy started up with quick enthusiasm. 

“ Poll ! How jolly of you to come in to see a 
fellow ! ” 

“ Then I’m not in the way ? ” she asked, as she 
pulled off her coat. 

“ What an idea ! I was desperately lonesome, 
and somehow you always seem to fit in better 
than the others. Molly teases, and Jessie tires 
me. Katharine is better, only she’s a little given 
to gushing, and boys don’t like that sort of thing, 
you know,” returned Alan frankly. 


THE PLAY. 


271 


“I’m very glad if I suit you,” said Polly, 
devoutly hoping she could succeed in avoiding 
the sin of teasing on the one hand, and of senti- 
mentality on the other. 

“Well, you do,” replied Alan, with a heartiness 
which he did not often show, for he was not much 
given to direct praise. “You’re first-rate com- 
pany, Poll, and I’d been hoping you’d get time 
to run in, for it’s stupid in the house. I knew 
you would, when you got round to it.” 

“ Oh, Alan, you just make me ashamed ! ” said 
Polly contritely. “I ought to have been here 
before, and ’specially when I was the one to blame 
for all this, too.” 

“No use crying over spilt milk,” answered 
Alan candidly. “ I did think you’d come before 

this; but you’re here now, and so it’s all right. 

* 

I’ve grown meek and am glad of small favors,” 
he added, with a merry, sidelong glance from 
his gray eyes. 

After that, not a da}^ passed without a call from 
Polly. Now that her conscience was awakened, 
she realized that she had rather neglected her 
friend, and did all that lay in her power to make 
amends for her past forgetfulness. Her mother 
encouraged her visits, for she had learned from 


272 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Mrs. Hapgood that they were a benefit to Alan 
and a help to herself, so Polly dropped in at her 
will, morning, noon, or night, and never failed to 
find a hearty welcome. The other girls laughed 
a little at her devotion, but it had no effect, so 
they went on their way, giving the boy the odds 
and ends of their time, while Polly and Alan 
spent long, cosy hours together, reading or play- 
ing games, with a perfect enjoyment of each 
other’s society which left them no opportunity to 
miss their absent friends. Damon and Pythias, 
the girls called them, and never were two friends 
more closely united, with a simple, true affection, 
which, however, had no trace of the consciousness 
that one was a boy, the other a girl. Two boys 
could not have been more free from sentimen- 
tality, two girls were never farther from any sug- 
gestion of budding flirtation. They were just 
well-tried friends of long standing ; and when, 
after four weeks, Alan went back into school 
again, his loyalty to Polly was, if possible, in- 
creased by the knowledge of the good times she 
had given up for his sake. 

Aside from Alan’s illness, the past weeks had 
brought to light another cause for excitement. 
Aunt Jane was about to become the second Mrs. 


THE PLAY. 


273 


Solomon Baxter. How, when, or where the fate- 
ful words were spoken was never known. What 
powerful arguments Mr. Baxter had brought to 
bear upon her, to overcome her aversion to do- 
mestic life, was never revealed. However, a 
week after Miss Roberts had, in the presence of 
the children, addressed her guest as “ Solo — 
Mr. Baxter,” she had taken her sister into her 
confidence, and long before Alan was in school 
again, the matter was publicly announced by 
Mr. Baxter’s escorting her to church, one Sun- 
day morning, and marching up the aisle by her 
side, in full view of the assembled congregation. 

This was the reason that, on the night of the 
play, Miss Roberts and Mr. Baxter occupied two 
armchairs placed side by side in the very front 
row of spectators, and that the captain’s opening 
speech was interrupted by a little giggle, as his 
eyes fell on the faces before him. 

The curtain rose on a “glade in the forest 
primaeval,” as was announced by the dozen play- 
bills which did duty for the audience. Evergreen 
boughs, a few potted plants, and a dingy, greenish 
carpet were supposed to transform the stage into 
the glade in question ; but the audience had little 
time to study the scenery, for the prompt entrance 


274 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


of the captain and a chosen companion called 
up a hearty burst of applause. The over-critical 
might have objected that English sailors do not, 
as a rule, have braids of brown hair escaping 
from their hats, and that the brave captain and 
explorer walked with some difficulty ; but the 
speech and action of the sailor were spirited, and 
the captain’s halting step was doubtless owing to 
temporary fatigue. Moreover, one glance at the 
boyish face under the great cocked hat was 
enough to make the most carping critic forget 
all other defects while, in strangely modern idioms 
and with a lofty disregard for dates, the old-time 
hero reminded his comrade of their long arid 
perilous voyage over the sea, of the great wilder- 
ness which lay before them, and of the glory of 
reclaiming that wilderness to the civilization of 
the Virgin Queen. The sailor resisted his elo- 
quence and refused to proceed, uttering mutinous 
threats against his leader’s life. But even in 
this crisis, the captain’s presence of mind did not 
fail him, and, seeing that his persuasions and 
commands were of no avail, he promptly bound 
the sailor, hand and foot, and was preparing to 
carry him forward on his shoulders, when a fierce 
war-whoop was heard, and three ferocious sav- 


THE PLAY. 


275 


ages rushed in upon them, just as the curtain 
fell. 

The second scene was regarded by the actors as 
being their most elaborate attempt. The room 
was darkened, and at the back of the stage, three 
or four dusky braves were crouched about their 
camp fire which, for the moment, had taken the 
form of an oil stove ; while in the foreground lay 
Alan and Jessie, bound and motionless, awaiting 
the death which seemed inevitable. Jean had 
expended all her energies on this scene, and the 
warriors smoked the peace-pipe, inspected their 
medicines, and danced a war-dance with befitting 
solemnity, while the captain writhed uneasily, not 
so much with mental anguish as on account of the 
rheumatic twinges which his cramped position had 
set to running up and down his legs and back. 
Then, with a close fidelity to the old histories, an 
imposing throne was brought in, and Jean, as 
Powhatan, mounted the insecure structure; two 
stones were rolled into place at her feet, the cap- 
tives’ heads were arranged on these comfortless 
pillows, and a brave, ball-club in hand, took his 
place beside each. The sailor proved himself a 
coward, but the captain was bold to the last, and 
alternately defied the king and encouraged his 


276 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


weaker companion, who was whimpering by his 
side. Then, in one long speech which, absurdly 
out of keeping with the surroundings as it was, 
yet had the ring of true pathos, the captain bade 
farewell to home, wife, and children, and welcomed 
death in the name and for the honor of queen and 
country. Even Aunt Jane’s face grew a little 
gentler as the boy voice went on to the close, and 
there was a momentary hush, followed by a hearty 
burst of applause, while Mrs. Adams, at the side, 
held Polly back, that her too hasty entrance 
should not mar the scene. Then Pocahontas 
dashed wildly in and, regardless of consequences, 
cast herself down on the captain’s prostrate body 
with a force that elicited a sudden 44 Ow ! ” from 
the hero who had just dared to defy a savage king. 
But his anguish was quickly repressed, and the 
scene went finely to its close, when the fair 
Pocahontas herself loosed his fetters, raised him 
to his feet, and once more threw herself into his 
arms, while Powhatan embraced them both, with 
many paternal remarks uttered in the choicest 
Indian gutterals. While the stage was being 
arranged for the next scene, John and his Poca- 
hontas were called before the curtain to receive 
the applause they had fully earned. 


THE PLAY. 


277 


In the next two scenes, Jean had departed 
widely from the traditional story. In the former 
one, the captain took the stage alone and told 
over the story of his past life, dwelling with 
especial emphasis on his charming wife and thir- 
teen beautiful children at home in mother Eng- 
land. His soliloquy was interrupted by the 
entrance of a messenger from a ship just landed, 
and, after a little political discussion, the messen- 
ger incidentally told him of a cyclone which had 
blown down his house and destroyed his entire 
family. The agony of the captain was tragic to 
behold, and moved Mr. Baxter to wipe his eyes 
sympathetically, and then cast a furtive glance at 
Aunt Jane who was apparently unmoved by this 
strange similarity of fate. Perhaps she was 
reserving her sympathy for Pocahontas. How- 
ever, the captain’s grief spent itself, and he finally 
recovered himself with the novel consolation that 
“ thirteen always was an unlucky number.” 
Then, dismissing the messenger, he proceeded to 
walk up and down his cabin and take counsel 
with his heart, how best to comfort himself in the 
future. After suggesting many a plan and reject- 
ing it as soon as suggested, he resolved to set off 
immediately to Powhatan and ask for the fair 


278 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


hand of Pocahontas. As the curtain fell on this 
third scene, no one applauded more enthusiasti- 
cally than Mr. Baxter. 

The next scene opened with the preparations 
for the marriage of Pocahontas to the young 
planter, John Rolfe, which were interrupted by 
the sudden appearance of the captain, who bent 
on one knee before Powhatan, to ask his daughter’s 
hand. Powhatan consented joyfully, and when 
Rolfe quite naturally objected, the captain pro- 
posed a duel, and killed his rival, under the very 
eyes of Pocahontas, who smiled rapturously as she 
watched the expiring agonies of her former lover. 
Then, turning to the captain, she said confid- 
ingly, — 

“And now, dear John, everything is all pre- 
pared, so what if we get married at once ? ” 

Accordingly, the marriage was at once solem- 
nized, with the warriors as witnesses, while Pow- 
hatan descended from the throne to give the bride 
away, and Rolfe opportunely came back to life in 
time to serve as the clergyman who performed the 
ceremony. 

There was a long delay between the marriage 
and the closing scene of the play ; and while the 
audience discussed the past scenes, there went on 


THE PLAY. 


279 


a great commotion behind the curtain, sounds of 
murmuring and of moving furniture, mingled with 
excited whispers, — 

“ Where is my crown ? ” 

“ Do somebody see if my train is all right ! ” 

“ Where is my sword ? ” 

“ Hush ! Hush ! ” 

All this was enough to rouse the expectations 
of the audience, but even they were not prepared 
for the blaze of glory which met their eyes as the 
curtain rose on the court of England. Katharine 
and Florence sat on the throne, as pretty and 
dainty a royal couple as could be imagined. The 
play-bills had announced it as the court of Queen 
Elizabeth, and Florence looked the queen to per- 
fection, in her trailing white silk gown, and with 
her mother’s diamonds blazing in her golden hair ; 
but opinions varied as to the identity of the 
haughty king by her side, for no one present was 
aware that Elizabeth’s kingdom had any such 
lordly appendage. Still, it was all very pictur- 
esque and, as Polly had said, a great deal could 
be attributed to poetical license, so nobody com- 
plained, if the throne was a little overcrowded. 
Back of the queen were grouped three maids of 
honor, elaborately and richly dressed in gowns 


280 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


that rivalled the rainbow in variety and brilliancy 
of color; while at the king’s left, as a fitting 
symbol of the British Lion, crouched old Leo, the 
Langs’s great Saint Bernard. After a long pause 
to allow the audience to study this gorgeous scene, 
Pocahontas and her captain swept in and knelt at 
the foot of the throne. The queen bowed grace- 
fully, in recognition of their homage, and bade 
them rise. Then, addressing the Lion and the 
maids, she called them “ the free men of England ” 
and, bidding them recall the captain’s services to 
her realm, she announced her determination to 
knight him on the spot. The captain and his bride 
knelt again, while the queen not only gave him the 
royal accolade and dubbed him Sir John, but went 
on to extend the ceremony to his devoted wife, and 
saluted her as “ My Lady Pocahontas, the fairest 
savage in all London town.” Then the royal pair 
stepped down from the throne and, joining hands 
with My Lord, My Lady, and the maids, and es- 
corted by the British Lion who amiably wagged 
his tail in token of approval, they advanced and 
bowed low to the audience as the curtain fell on 
the play. The applause was enthusiastic and pro- 
longed, and the actors were rejoicing in their 
success when, as the clapping of hands died 


THE PLAY. 


281 


away, Aunt Jane’s voice was heard, solemnly 
remarking, — 

“ W ell, I do hope those children realize that all 
this story about Pocahontas has been proved to 
be entirely without foundation. It seems to me a 
great waste of time to get up a play that hasn’t 
a word of truth in it.” 

“ Isn’t that just like Aunt Jane ! ” whispered 
Pocahontas in disgust. “ I wonder if she’d have 
liked it any better, if we’d acted out all about her 
and her Mr. Baxter.” 

A few moments later, the actors appeared, all 
in costume, to bring small trays laden with good 
things for the refreshment of their guests, and to 
receive congratulations on their play. Then they 
gathered in the dining-room to have their share of 
the goodies and discuss the evening, feeling that 
the best part of the whole was the merry time of 
talking it over afterwards. 

“ Oh,” groaned Alan, taking off his hat as he 
helped himself to a macaroon ; “ I didn’t much 
think I should ever breathe again, to say nothing 
of eating, after Pocahontas came down on me. 
Polly, I do wish you’d go and get weighed, in the 
morning.” 

“There’s one favor I’d like to ask,” said Jessie. 


282 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ If we ever play it over again, I wish that when 
you get ready to kill us, you’d put us inside the 
curtain. You were so eager about untying Alan 
that you forgot all about me, and when the cur- 
tain came down, I was half inside it and half out- 
side, so that Mrs. Adams had to come and pull me 
back, before I could get up.” 

“ If we ever play it again ! ” echoed Jean. “ But 
you never will, with my consent. I thought ’twas 
splendid, while I was writing it ; when we were 
rehearsing it, I thought ’twas pretty good ; but 
while we were playing it to-night before all those 
people, I thought it was simply dreadful, and I 
was ashamed of myself for ever trying to write 
such trash.” 

“ If you don’t like it, you can write us another,” 
said Jessie; “ but, for my part, this is good enough 
for me.” 

“ Are you through eating, children ? ” asked 
Mrs. Adams, putting her head in at the door. 
“Mrs. Hapgood wants you all to sing something, 
just to finish up the evening.” 

It was an unexpected request, and for a moment, 
the actors demurred, then held a hasty consulta- 
tion. A few minutes later, they appeared in 
Indian file, John Smith and his sailor leading the 


THE PLAY. 


288 


way, and the rest following in their Indian cos- 
tumes. Katharine sat down at the piano and 
played a few solemn, slow chords, then the others 
took up the chorus, the words of which they had 
adapted for the occasion : 


John Smith had a little Injun, 
One little Injun girl.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 

“ Do you know what a first-rate substitute for 
roast oysters these are ? ” asked Alan, twirling the 
great metal spider with purplish back and spiral 
wire legs that hung from the gas fixture. 

“ No, nor you either, Alan,” said Jessie. 

“ They do, now honestly. If you heat them up 
real hot, they smell just like roast oysters. I 
knew a family once, that always kept one on 
hand, and when provisions ran low, they’d set it 
to frying, and all sit round and smell of it. It 
was ’most as good as eating them,” persisted the 
boy soberly. 

“Alan Hapgood,” said his sister, “if you tell 
any more such taradiddles, I’ll send you home.” 

“ But what if I don’t choose to go ? ” returned 
Alan. “ Mrs. Adams asked me here to spend the 
afternoon, and you wouldn’t any of you have 
known what was going on, if it hadn’t been for 
me.” 

“ You shall stay and tell all the stories you like, 
284 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


285 


Alan,” said Polly, coming to his defence as usual. 
“ And if Molly doesn’t like it, she shall go home, 
her own self.” 

“Come, Alan,” urged Florence; “tell us an- 
other story, a real long one, to help pass the time.” 

“Hm! Let’s see,” mused Alan. “I don’t 
know as I know any. I’ll tell you, I read one a 
while ago that I liked pretty well, and if I get 
hard up, I can put in some of that. How’ll that 
do?” 

“ Beautifully,” said Polly, with enthusiasm. 
“ You do tell such splendid stories, Alan.” 

The group in Mrs. Adams’s parlor had gathered 
there for a strange purpose, that day. An old 
negro, well-known throughout the town, had died, 
two days before, and Alan had discovered, only 
that noon, that the man was to be buried with 
military honors. The line of march to the ceme- 
tery lay past the Adams house, so Mrs. Adams 
had asked them all to come there, to watch the 
solemn pageant. It was a cold, gray April day, 
threatening rain at any moment. As the girls 
and Alan reached the gate, they had paused, for 
a minute, to watch the fast-gathering crowd as it 
hurried away up the street to the old brown house, 
just visible in the distance, whose end, jutting out 


286 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


on the street, was surrounded with the members 
of the company, who had assembled to pay the 
last honors to their sleeping comrade. Under the 
dull, leaden sky, and in the shade of the arching 
elms, the old house and the road and the gray- 
coated men looked to the children as if the heavy 
shadow which rested over the silent room within 
had extended over them all, and was enveloping 
them in its sombre gloom. Though only a mo- 
ment before, they had been laughing and talking 
in mere curious interest, they grew suddenly quiet, 
as they realized that the swift, mysterious sum- 
mons had come to old Pete, whom they had 
known so well. 

“And they say,” said Alan, as Polly joined 
them at the gate, and they lingered there, “ that 
Pete’s little dog won’t leave the room one minute, 
but just lies there and watches him. They tried 
to get him away, for the funeral, but he snarled at 
them so they had to let him be.” 

Katharine’s face softened. 

“ That’s a friend worth having,” said she 
thoughtfully. “Some people say ‘only a dog,’ 
but if he is faithful to his master, even after 
death has come, what more can he do ? ” 

“Oh, dear me; there’s Job!” exclaimed Polly 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


287 


suddenly, as the old creature stalked into sight. 
44 How did he get out? ” 

“ I wonder if we could get him in,” said Alan. 

“ It’s no use ; he’d only kick you,” returned 
Polly. 44 We may as well come into the house, 
and let him alone ; then perhaps he’ll go in. He’s 
awfully obstinate, you know.” 

44 1 think I’ve noticed something of the kind,” 
said Jessie, as they ran up the steps, and left Job 
to the quiet workings of his conscience. 

By the time they were gathered in the parlor 
windows, their momentary quiet was over, and 
they were talking as gaily as ever while they 
gazed up the street, watching for the first signs of 
the procession. But the funeral services were 
long, and the girls’ patience was rapidly becoming 
exhausted when Florence had suggested Alan’s 
telling them a story, to while away the time of 
waiting. The girls arranged themselves before 
the two long front windows, to look and listen at 
the same time, Katharine, Florence, and Jean at 
one, Molly and Jessie at the other, with Alan and 
Polly on the floor at their feet, and the lad began 
his tale. 

44 Once upon a time, about sixty-seven years and 
nine months ago, there was a young man in Eng- 


288 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


land that was rich and handsome and brave and 
good, and his name was — Oh, give us a name for 
him, Poll.” 

“ Mortimer Vincent Augustin Thorne,” re- 
sponded Polly promptly. “ I think that’s a 
lovely name.” 

“ Too long,” objected Alan. “ Something 
shorter, not but one.” 

“Malcolm, then; will that suit?” asked Flor- 
ence, from the other side of the room. 

“Yes, that’s good. Well, his name was Mal- 
colm, and he fell in love with a girl named — ” 

“Gertrude,” suggested Jean, without waiting 
to be asked. 

“No, Margaret,” said Polly. “That’s ever so 
much better.” 

“ All right, call her Margaret,” said Alan ; “ but 
if you girls don’t keep still, I never can tell you 
any story. Malcolm loved Margaret and wanted 
her to be his bride, but she was kept a captive in 
a tower, by a wicked uncle who had gone on a 
crusade to the Holy Land.” 

“But they didn’t go on crusades sixty-seven 
years ago,” said Jean, whose strong point was 
history. 

“Will you keep still, Jean?” said Polly. 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


289 


“ This isn’t a true story, and he has as good a 
light to poetical license as you had in the play.” 

“ The Holy Land,” resumed Alan, not noticing 
the interruption ; “ and he had taken the keys to 
the tower in his pocket, so Malcolm didn’t really 
know just what to do. At last, after he had tried 
all sorts of things, he took his banjo and went 
under the tower window and sang a little song 
that Margaret had made up, when they were 
children together.” Here Alan paused to smile 
meaningly at Polly, before he went on. “ It was a 
very sweet song, and his voice was loud enough so 
Margaret heard him and opened a window to peek 
out. She knew him as soon as she saw him, and 
she wrote a letter and tied it to a string and let it 
down to him. He read it and wrote an answer, 
and was just getting ready to send it up, the same 
way, when a great, fierce ruffian with a blood- 
hound pounced on him, and threw him into the 
very darkest dungeon in the cellar of the tower. 
He was pretty much scared, for he was all in the 
dark, and he was without any food or anything to 
drink, and he only had his banjo to comfort him. 
But he was so glad it wasn't Margaret that was 
there, that he didn’t much mind anything else. 
But that wasn’t the worst of it. His prison walls 


290 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


kept growing smaller and smaller, till by and by 
it began to get so tight that it hurt him. It 
didn’t stop, even then, but it grew so small that 
his bones began to break, till finally he found that 
he only had one whole one left. That stirred him 
up, and he said to himself, ‘ If I don’t find a way 
out, I shall be a dead man ! ’ So he pounded on 
the walls, to see what they were made of, and 
found they were iron ; but he knew the floor was 
earth, so he began to dig as fast as he could, and 
he used his banjo for a scoop, to carry off the 
earth in.” 

“ Where’d he carry it to? ” inquired Jessie. “ I 
thought he didn’t have any room to move round.” 

“He didn’t, very much,” said Alan; “but he 
made the most of every little corner, and before 
long he had dug down far enough to come to just 
the jolliest little secret passage you ever saw. He 
slipped down into it, and followed it along and 
along ever so far, till at last he came up to the 
light again, outside the walls of the tower. He 
swung his hat in the air and shouted, ‘Three 
cheers for Queen Victoria!’ and then he ran 
round under Margaret’s window and took his 
banjo and sang the song once more, to let her 
know he was alive. Then, without wasting any 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


291 


more time, he ran off through the forest. But 
when he came to the top of the very first hill, he 
looked back and saw Margaret leaning out of the 
window, waving a pale blue flag with the word 
courage on it, in gilt letters.’’ 

“ Where did she get such a thing? ” asked Jean. 

“ Oh, she’d been making it, while he was in the 
dungeon,” answered Alan. “ So he went away to 
the Holy Land, to look for the wicked uncle. He 
walked every step of the way, and swam rivers 
and climbed up mountains and slid down on ava- 
lanches on the other side, and at last he came to 
Jerusalem. He found the uncle just leading four 
regiments against the city gates, mounted on a 
splendid white horse. And he looked down and 
smiled scornfully and said, 4 What ho, Malcolm ! 
You here?’ That made Malcolm very mad, so he 
pulled the uncle off his horse and hit him, thump ! 
with his banjo, and killed him. Then he looked 
in his pockets and found ever so much money ; 
but, hard up as he was, for he’d had his pockets 
picked on the way, he didn’t take the money, 
for he wanted something else. It was found at 
last, a little gold key hung round his neck on a 
silver chain ; so Malcolm took the key and went 
home, riding the uncle’s horse, and let out Mar- 


292 


HALF A DOZLN GIRLS. 


garet, and they lived happy and died happy, and 
she was heir to all the tower and the servants. But 
the first thing she did was to block the walls of the 
dungeon, so they couldn’t move any more.” 

“ Oh, Alan, Alan ! Where did you get such a 
story ? ” said Katharine, laughing until the tears 
came. 

“ Get it ? Made it up, of course,” returned the 
boy, with evident pride in his tale. 

“ It must be splendid to be able to make up such 
stories!” sighed Polly enviously. “I’d give 
almost anything if I could do it.” 

“ I should hope if you tried, yours would hang 
together a little better,” said Molly who, in virtue 
of her relationship, felt privileged to be as critical 
as she chose. “ It’s a mystery to me how he could 
move round to dig up the floor when all . his bones 
were broken, and I never heard that you could use 
a banjo for a shovel and then play on it, or hit a 
man hard enough to kill him, and not break it.’ 

“I don’t care for all that,” said Polly enthu- 
siastically. “ Anybody could tell a story and get 
rid of those things. What I like is the things he 
did, he was so brave and so true, and then his not 
touching any of the uncle’s money was the best part 
of it all, when he needed it so much.” 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


293 


“ But he stole the uncle’s horse,” objected 
Jean. 

“ He didn’t steal it, he only took it home. And 
speaking of horses, I wonder what’s become of 
Job.” And Polly leaned forward to peer out of 
the window. 

“ There he is, over in the next lot,” said Jessie. 

Dr. Adams’s house stood far back from the 
street, and next to it was a deep, vacant lot at 
the very rear of which Job was aimlessly wander- 
ing about, pausing now and then to nip at the 
tender green blades that were pushing their way 
up through the brown, dead turf. 

“ What ever sent him in there ! ” said Polly. 
“ I don’t see how we can get him home.” 

“ Let him alone long enough, and he’ll come,” 
predicted Molly. “ It’s no use to chase him 
round and round, and if you drive him out into 
the street, he’ll run away.” 

“I wish he would,” said Polly explosively, 
“ and never come back again ! He’s more trouble 
than he’s worth, and he knows more than all the 
rest of us put together.” 

“Give him to Aunt Jane for a wedding 
present,” Alan proposed. 

“ She’d think ’twas signing her death warrant,” 


294 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


answered Polly, laughing. “ You know he did 
duty at the funeral of Mrs. Baxter the first.” 

“Oh dear, it seems as if they never would 
come!” sighed Jessie impatiently. “What does 
keep them so long? ” 

“Do somebody tell another story,” said Florence. 
“ Can’t you, Katharine ? ” 

“ I should never dare, after Alan’s wonderful 
success,” replied Katharine lightly, as she took 
out the daffodil she had been wearing in her 
buttonhole and tossed it over to her cousin. Then 
she added soberly, “ It isn’t any story at all, but 
I believe, while we wait, I’ll tell you about the 
saddest funeral I ever saw in my life.” 

“Go on, Kit; you have the floor,” said Alan 
encouragingly. 

“ It isn’t much to tell, but you’ve no idea how 
pitiful it was to see,” the girl went on thought- 
fully. “Just a year ago this spring, papa had 
to go West on business, and he took me with him. 
We had to stay two or three days in a little bit 
of a town up in the Rocky Mountains, and while 
we were there, a young woman died. She had 
only been married a month, and had just come 
out from New England, to live in the cunning 
little new house that her husband had built. It 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


295 


was a winter of very deep snow, even for that 
region, and when it melted, it grew soft all the 
way down through, before it seemed to go away, 
any at all. The cemetery was away from the 
town, up on the side of the mountain, just the 
loneliest, most desolate place you can imagine ; 
and it seemed so sad to take her away and leave 
her there all alone. It was a long, long proces- 
sion, and papa and I stood at the window to 
watch it, as it went through the town, and on 
out into the open county, where no road had 
been broken. Then, for a mile or two, the long 
black line crawled along over the snow, while 
the horses floundered about, half buried in the 
drifts, and the hearse tipped this way and that, 
as first one wheel would sink down out of sight, 
and then another. At last it wound around the 
foot of the hill, and we couldn’t see it any more ; 
but I kept feeling so sorry for the poor little wife 
and for the lonely husband in his new house.” 

Katharine paused, but there was no word 
spoken, so she went on, — 

“ A month later we spent Sunday there, on our 
way home. The snow had all melted and, in the 
afternoon, I teased papa to walk up to the ceme- 
tery with me. We remembered the name, so we 


296 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


could find the grave easily enough. It was per- 
fectly bare, without any grass on it, but at the 
head was a rough little cross made of two boards 
nailed together, with her name painted on it, in 
black letters that were a little unsteady, as if 
somebody’s hand shook when he was making 
them ; and at the foot of the cross lay one tiny 
bunch of white immortelles, to show that she 
wasn’t quite forgotten. But when we turned to 
look at the view, it didn’t seem sad, any more. 
The little, low, dingy town lay below us, as if she 
had risen above it, and all around us, the great, 
soft, kind mountains stood up in the sun to guard 
her and watch over her, in her sleep. The shabby 
cross and the little posy and the magnificent 
brown mountains were all so much more kind 
and loving than our piles of marble and fussy 
flowers arranged for show, that when I came 
down the hill, I didn’t feel sorry for her, any 
longer.” 

The hush that followed Katharine’s simple 
story was unbroken for some moments. Then 
Polly sprang up excitedly, — 

“ The drums ! Don’t you hear them ? ” And 
she rushed away to call her mother. 

The procession was moving, at last, and the 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


297 


distant roll of muffled drums could be plainly 
heard by the girls, as they pressed closely to 
the window. Touched, as they had been, by 
the account of that far-away funeral among the 
mountains, they were in just the mood to be 
impressed by the scene which was passing before 
them. And, in truth, any one who stood looking 
on, that day, must have felt the impressiveness 
of the long line as it slowly filed down the broad 
street under the graceful arches of the tall old 
elms, in the cold light of the cloudy afternoon. 
First came the drum corps, with wailing fife and 
muffled drum ; next appeared the gray uniforms 
of the company who marched two by two, with 
bowed heads and reversed arms, to escort the 
hearse in their midst. Directly behind the hearse 
trotted a small, yellow figure, at sight of whom 
Alan stealthily drew his hand across his eyes. 
It was Pete’s faithful friend, the little Scotch 
terrier, who was following his master to his last 
resting-place, with a sturdy determination not to 
leave his good old master with whom he had 
spent such a happy little life. Then followed 
the line of carriages and the straggling groups 
on foot; but the girls paid little heed to them, 
for Polly said, in a sudden whisper, — 


298 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Just look at Job! ” 

For a long time the old horse had been quietly 
grazing, without so much as raising his head to 
take breath and look about him, so greedy was 
he for the first tender grass-blades of the spring. 
Suddenly he heard the roll of the drums and 
threw up his head to listen, with eager ears and 
dilating eyes, as if the sound recalled to him 
some vague memory of his far-off youth. So 
proud and spirited he looked as he stood there, 
that it was evident that, in fancy, he was living 
over his former days, perhaps listening to the 
triumphant strains of music which heralded the 
close of the rebellion. As the sound came nearer, 
and yet nearer, he appeared to be under its spell 
and slowly moved down towards the street, arch- 
ing his glossy neck and stepping high, in perfect 
time to the music. Fifty feet from the fence, he 
stopped and gazed at the scene before him, still 
spellbound by the martial sounds and the mem- 
ories they called up in his mind, while the group 
in the Adams’s windows watched him intently, 
amazed at the life and fire in the old creature’s 
pose and manner. Still Job stood watching the 
soldiers, listening to the band until it had moved 
onward, past the spot where he was. Then his 


JOB GOES TO A FUNERAL. 


299 


eyes fell on the hearse, and he took one eager 
step forward. Surely that was a familiar sight ! 
The carriages came next, and by that time there 
was no hesitancy in his mind; for at length he 
recognized all the solemn import of the proces- 
sion. It was a funeral, and in funerals Job had 
often borne a conspicuous part. The band was 
doubtless his call to duty ; and should any one 
say that he had failed, even in his old age, to 
respond to this call ? He took another step for- 
ward, paused again, for only one instant; then, 
just as the last carriage passed the gate, he swung 
his aged tail round and round, in two rapturous, 
joyful whisks, and with tossing head and flying 
mane, he trotted rapidly out into the street, over- 
took the procession and, dropping into a decorous 
walk just as his nose touched the back of the 
rear carriage, he marched solemnly off down the 
street, with patient resignation and unending 
sadness depicted in every line of his old brown 
body. 

Inside the parlor the girls, without a thought 
of their past interest in Pete’s funeral, turned and 
gazed at each other in silence for a moment, then 
sank to the floor, in uncontrollable, though noise- 
less laughter. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 

Still another month had passed and it was late 
in May when, one bright Saturday morning, Jessie, 
Polly, and Alan drove away through the town and 
out over the western hills. Cob was as full of life 
and spirits as they were, and they went gaily 
onward with no particular destination in view, but 
only intent on enjoying the soft, warm air and the 
abundance of spring life all about them. Birds in 
every tree, green leaves and bright blossoms on 
every hand, and over them all the clear, yellow 
sunlight, these were enough for the happy young 
people in the carriage. 

“ Dear me ! ” sighed Polly. “ When we begin 
to have days like this, it does seem as if vacation 
never, never would come. I can’t bear to stay 
in school and work over books in such weather. 
I’d much rather stay outside and watch things 
grow.” 

“ Let’s cut school for the rest of the term, 
Polly,” suggested Alan, “and take Job and drive 
300 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 


301 


off out of tlie world somewhere, and not come back 
till winter.” 

“ Thank you, no. I’ll take Cob, if Jessie is 
willing, for we couldn’t get outside of the town 
with Job, if we had any idea of getting back by 
Christmas,” rejoined Polly, laughing. 

“ Take Cob and welcome, if I can go with you,” 
said Jessie. “ Seems to me I never felt so before, 
but I don’t want to stay in school any more than 
Polly does. Perhaps it’s because your springs are 
pleasanter than ours.” 

“I shouldn’t wonder if they were,” said Polly 
reflectively, as regardless of freckles, she took off 
her hat and let the sun strike full upon her ruddy 
curls. “Isn’t this perfect?” she added, with a 
sigh of content. “I do believe everything is 
nicer in Massachusetts than it is anywhere else. 
I’m glad I happened to be born in the Bay 
State.” 

Jessie laughed outright at the fervor of her 
tone. Then she said, as she drew Cob down to a 
slow walk, to enjoy a bit of road that lay under 
a group of tall pines, — 

“After all, I shall be sorry to have vacation 
come, for as soon as this term is over, we shall 
have to go home, and I don’t want to, one bit.” 


302 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Sorry to leave me, aren’t you, Cousin Jessie?” 
asked Alan, with mock sentiment. 

“ Don’t flatter yourself, young man,” said Polly, 
in parenthesis, as Jessie went on seriously, — 
“Why, yes, I suppose I shall miss you, Alan; 
but it’s the girls that I care most for. We’ve had 
such good times doing things together, and next 
year I shall be forlorn enough, for Kit will come 
out, and I shall be left all to myself.” 

“Come back here,” suggested Alan quite hos- 
pitably, considering the frank way in which Jessie 
had spoken of her slight regret at leaving him. 

“Without Kit? Never!” replied Jessie ear- 
nestly. “ I’d rather be with her and have only 
a dozen words a day from her, than have to be 
separated from her. I’ve always been fond of her, 
but it seems to me she was never half so lovely 
as she’s been this last year.” 

Polly stepped on Alan’s toe, under cover of the 
robe, and was met by an answering flash from the 
gray eyes, but neither spoke, as Jessie continued, — 
“ You do so many more things here, and have 
so much better times, you girls, that Kit and I 
both wish papa and mamma would come back 
here to live. Omaha is pleasant enough, and the 
river is lovely, — when it isn’t muddy ; but I 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 303 


shall miss these hills and the elms and the lazy 
look of the old town. I like old things best. And 
what do you suppose I shall miss, most of all ? ” 
u Job” and “Aunt Jane,” suggested Alan and 
Polly, in a breath 

“ You’re too bad to laugh at me.” And Jessie 
tried to pout, but it was too hard work, so she 
gave up the attempt and laughed instead. “No, 
it’s the garret at your house, Alan, with all the 
old spinning wheels and warming pans. Some 
day, when I get my cats, I’ll come back here to 
live, see if I don’t.” And Jessie nodded with 
decision as she started up Cob once more. 

“ Oh, dear ! Next year doesn’t mean much fun 
for me,” groaned Polly. “ I shall have to begin 
Latin and Greek and all sorts of dreadful things, 
so as to get ready for college.” 

“Then you are really going,” said Jessie. 
“ What makes you do it, if you don’t want to ? ” 
“It’s been the family plan ever since I was a 
baby,” said Polly ; “ and there’s no use in trying 
to change it. Besides, I don’t think I mind it 
much, or shan’t when I once get there. I want to 
know a few things when I’m grown up, even if 
I’m not a lawyer or a doctor, — but I’m going to 
leave that for Alan.” 


304 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Don’t worry about that, Polly,” said Alan. 
“At present rate of progress, if I lose a month 
or two of school every winter, I shouldn’t get 
through college till long after you were dead and 
out of the way. And then, I don’t think I want 
to be a doctor, anyway.” 

“Now, Alan,” retorted Polly; “that’s not quite 
fair of you, when you know how my heart is set 
on having you a splendid doctor, and in time 
taking papa’s place. I’ve told you, time and time 
again, that if I had a brother, he would have to 
be one ; and, as long as I haven’t, you’re the next 
best thing. You’d make such a splendid one, 
too. I know, for I asked papa if you wouldn’t, 
and he said yes. He said — ” Polly came to a 
sudden pause. 

“ Said what, Poll ? Out with it.” 

“ I wasn’t going to tell, for fear ’twould make 
you conceited,” returned Polly ; “ but if I thought 
it would make any difference with your plans, I’d 
run the risk, only you must be really in earnest 
about it, Alan, and think it all over. He said you 
had just the character that goes to make a good 
doctor, brave and true and unselfish, and always 
gentle and calm and jolly. Now doesn’t that make 
you want to be something grand?” And Polly 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 305 


turned to look at the boy, with all her earnestness, 
all her love for him lighting her face and beauti- 
fying it, in spite of the brown freckles on her 
cheeks. 

Alan’s face flushed and his eyes were shinipg, 
as he asked eagerly, — 

“ Did Dr. Adams really say all that about me ? ” 

“ Yes, he said so only the other day, and I sup- 
pose I oughtn’t to have told you ; but, ever since 
our talk one day last winter when you’d been to 
the hospital, I’ve been hoping and hoping that 
some day you’d be just the right kind of a doctor, 
one that cures his patients, whether they can pay 
or not, and makes them love him, in spite of the 
horrid things he has to do to them. If you’d only 
do that, Alan, I should be so proud of you.” 

“Should you, Poll? Well, I’ll think about it, 
but it’s too soon to make up my mind yet. Mother 
wants me to be a minister.” 

“You a minister! Why, Alan, you’d laugh, 
even in the middle of a sermon ; and I know you’d 
never go to a funeral without thinking how Job 
went, the other day. And anyway, I’d a great 
deal rather be a doctor, for they do more good. 
Ministers talk ; doctors do .” 

“ Some ministers do ,” said Jessie. 


306 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Yes, some of them; but it’s their business to 
preach, and that’s all most of them try to do. You 
won’t hear of many ministers that get up, cold 
winter nights, every night for a week, to go to see 
onei poor little croupy baby, just for love of it, and 
not expecting to get a cent. I don’t believe that, 
taken year in and year out, there are many mis- 
sionaries that work harder or do more good than 
papa does.” 

“ Not many doctors, either,” suggested Alan. 

“ That may be ; but just his doing it proves 
that it can be done, if anybody is willing to try. 
Don’t shirk that way, Alan ; it isn’t like you. 
You can do it just as well as he can, and I 
mean you shall, some day, if teasing can do any 
good.” 

“Do you know, Polly,” said Jessie; “you’ve 
talked about it till you make me want to be a 
doctor, myself. I don’t suppose mamma would 
ever let me, but I’d like to try, and I think I 
could do it.” 

“Why don’t you, then?” asked Polly heartily. 
“I don’t want to myself, and I shouldn’t succeed. 
I should be like the old doctor papa tells about, 
that used to swear at his patients when they didn’t 
mind him. I never could keep cool when things 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 307 


went wrong. Besides, I think it’s a man’s work, 
more than a woman’s." 

“I’d like to be one, and prove that you are 
wrong,’’ returned Jessie, with some spirit. 

“If I really made up my mind to be a doctor, 
I’d be a good one, if I had to give up 'everything 
else for the sake of it; but it isn’t in my line,’’ 
said Polly a little regretfully. “ But when you and 
Alan are famous all over the world, I’ll go around 
telling everybody how I was the first one to start 
you in that line ; and they’ll all be grateful to me, 
even if I haven’t any career, see if they aren’t.’’ 

“ In the meantime,’’ said Alan, suddenly break- 
ing off the conversation, “ has anybody the slight- 
est idea where we are ? ’’ 

“I haven’t," said Jessie, pulling up Cob ab- 
ruptly. “ I’ve been so busy talking and thinking 
that I haven’t paid any attention to where we 
were going." 

“ I never saw this road before," said Polly. 
“It’s too far out of town for Job’s wanderings. 
But go on ; we shall come to a house or a guide- 
board before long.’’ 

“To judge by the sun and by my appetite,’’ 
remarked Alan pensively, “ it must be almost 
noon." 


308 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


44 Oh, that makes me think ! ” exclaimed Polly. 
“ Get up, Alan ; you’re right on them ! ” 

“On what?” inquired the boy lazily, without 
stirring. 

44 On the gingersnaps. Mamma gave me some 
to put in my pocket, in case we should get 
hungry, and here you’ve been sitting on top of 
them, all the way!” There was an accent of de- 
spair in Polly’s tone. 

Alan rose, and she plunged her hand into her 
pocket. 

“Just look here!” she said accusingly, as she 
drew out a crumpled paper bag. 

Alan caught it from her hand and peered down 
into it. 

44 Pulverized gingersnaps !” he exclaimed. “Want 
some, Jessie?” 

44 I’m so hungry, I’m thankful for anything,” 
she replied. 44 Let’s eat up the largest pieces our- 
selves, Polly, and make Alan take the dust for his 
share, for he was the one to blame.” 

44 1 know it, and now he’ll never know how 
good they were,” returned Polly relentlessly, as 
the girls devoured the contents of the bag, even to 
the last crumb. 44 He deserves to go hungry.” 

44 But what’s that building over there ? ” asked 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 309 


Jessie, a little later, pointing to a great red house 
on the side of a distant hill. 

“That? That’s the poorhouse,” replied Polly, 
after studying it for a minute or two. “ I came 
here once with papa, ever so long ago. I’d like to 
know how we ever managed to get here; it’s 
seven or eight miles from town.” 

“ Seven or eight miles from town ! And we are 
dying of starvation,” said Alan. 

“ Speak for yourself, please ; Jessie and I have 
had lunch,” said Polly. “But,” she went on, 
struck with a sudden thought, “ let’s go and see 
Miss Bean, and maybe she’ll invite us to dinner. 
She ought to, for she’s been fed at our house 
often enough.” 

Jessie fell in with the idea. 

“ Let’s try it, anyway,” she said. “ I’ve always 
wanted to see what they do in such a place, and I 
don’t believe there would be any harm in it.” 

“What harm could there be?” said Polly. 
“We needn’t tell her we’ve come to dinner; only, 
if she should happen to ask us, we could stay, 
after she’s teased a little.” 

Turning from the main road, they drove under 
the great gateway and followed a winding drive up 
to the very door of the house. A few old crones 


310 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


sat in a row by the door, chattering like so many 
venerable crows ; but when they caught sight of 
the children, their voices sank to whispers, as they 
watched Alan spring to the ground, hold up his 
arms to help Polly and Jessie, and then deliber- 
ately tie Cob to the nearest post. 

At sight of the women in their plain white 
caps and dark calico gowns, Jessie was seized 
with a nervous desire to laugh, and hid behind 
Polly, whispering, — 

“ You do the talking, Polly; I can’t.” 

“But what shall I say?” returned Polly, in 
the same tone. 

“Isn’t there a matron or something?” said 
Jessie doubtfully. “ Ask for her.” 

By this time, Alan had joined them and they 
held a hasty consultation, as a result of which 
Alan walked straight up to the old women. Hat 
in hand, and a smile on his bright, boyish face, 
he bowed low before them and asked if he could 
be directed to the matron’s room. Alan’s smile 
never failed to move a woman’s heart, no matter 
whether she was old or young. In the present 
instance, one of the aged dames tottered to her 
feet, saying, — 

“ Bless your heart, sonny ! I’ll show you, my- 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 311 


self, to pay for your sweet manners.” And she 
toddled away, followed by the girls and by Alan 
whose sweet manners had collapsed into a stifled 
giggle at the unlooked-for compliment. 

They were taken into a long, wide hall through 
the middle of which ran a strip of rag carpet, 
edged with plain wooden settees. Everything 
was scrupulously neat and clean, but the only 
ornament in sight was a stuffed poodle under a 
glass case, above which hung the somewhat in- 
appropriate motto : God loveth a cheerful giver. 
Here they were told to sit down, while the old 
woman went in search of the matron. The next 
few moments were rather uncomfortable for all 
three of the children. Now that they were really 
inside the institution, they were a little frightened 
at what they had done ; and yet the ridiculous 
side of their being there struck them so keenly 
that they dared not speak, for fear of being found 
laughing, when the all-powerful matron should 
make her appearance. At length she came, a trim 
little woman, with an earnest face and a business- 
like manner. At Polly’s request to be allowed to 
see Miss Bean, she shook her head doubtfully. 

“ It isn’t one of our regular visiting days,” she 
began. “ Was your errand an important one ? ” 


312 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Not very,” returned Polly, with a lingering 
accent on the second word, as she caught the 
sound of a distant clatter of dishes and breathed 
in a vague odor of boiled beef. 

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” the matron 
went on ; “ and if you have come all the way 
from town, it is too bad to send you back without 
seeing her, for a minute. Call Miss Bean,” she 
said to a servant. “What name shall I tell her ? ” 
she asked Polly. 

“Polly Adams, ma’am,” answered Polly. 

The matron became suddenly cordial, like a 
snowbank under the rays of the spring sun. 

“ Isn’t this Dr. Adams’s daughter ? ” she asked. 
“ I thought I saw a familiar look about the lower 
part of the face.” 

“Yes, Dr. Adams is my father,” said Polly, 
whose hopes of staying sprang into life once 
more. 

“Indeed! I am very glad to see you for his 
sake,” returned the matron. “Perhaps he sent 
you? ” 

“ No — o, he didn’t send us ; we came,” faltered 
Polly. 

“Never mind; I am glad to see you, anyway. 
And these are your young friends, I suppose. 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 


313 


Wouldn’t you all like to stay and have dinner 
here ? It is almost ready,” she added, in a 
generous burst of hospitality. 

u Thank you, we should be delighted,” said 
Alan hastily, fearing Polly might lose the oppor- 
tunity by politely hesitating. 

“Well, Polly Adams, where in the name of 
time did you come from?” asked Miss Bean’s 
voice behind her. 

Polly turned around. Could this be Miss Bean, 
this little, withered figure in the calico gown and 
white cap ? Where was the green and black 
gown? Where were the lace mitts and the shaker 
bonnet? However, there could be no doubt of 
Miss Bean’s identity when she said, in her usual 
abrupt manner, — 

“ How’s your ma ? And who are these chil- 
dren?” 

“This is Alan Hapgood,” replied Polly, intro- 
ducing her friends; “and this is Jessie Shepard.” 

“ You don’t say so ! Henry and Kate Shepard’s 
daughter, from out in Omaha ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Miss Bean completed Jessie’s embarrassment by 
critically scrutinizing her from head to foot, then 
asking suddenly, — 


314 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Do they dress much out in Omaha ? ” 

This unexpected question sent Alan off to ex- 
amine the stuffed poodle, while Miss Bean turned 
to Polly again. 

“ Did your ma send you ? ” 

“No, ma’am,” said Polly. 

“ Then what did you come for ? ” was the hos- 
pitable query. 

“We were driving this way, and so we stopped 
to see you,” answered Polly, with a feeling of 
shame at her own insincerity. 

“ Much obliged,” returned Miss Bean, with 
grim sarcasm ; then she added, “ How’s your 
Uncle Solomon? I always thought he and Miss 
Roberts would come round, if I only just put ’em 
in a way to think of it.” 

Miss Bean’s questions bade fair to last indefi- 
nitely, but fortunately the dinner bell sounded, 
and the matron came back to lead her young 
guests into the great dining-room, at one end of 
which she had arranged a small table with seats 
for them, and for Miss Bean who was regarded 
with no small degree of envy, as she took her 
place in this honored circle. The matron seated 
herself with Alan and Jessie at her left, Polly and 
Miss Bean at her right, and the simple dinner 


MISS BEAN’S VISIT IS RETURNED. 315 


of boiled beef and vegetables was brought in. 
Except for an occasional request for food, the 
meal was eaten in silence, while the old people 
curiously watched the matron’s group, and lis- 
tened eagerly to the conversation they kept up. 
Polly, too, was silent, gazing with a curious fasci- 
nation at the long line of aged faces, some peace- 
ful, others querulous, but all so alike that the row 
of them seemed to become an endless perspective 
of white caps and wagging jaws. Her reverie 
was interrupted by Miss Bean, who leaned across 
the table to say reprovingly to Jessie, as she 
refused the boiled cabbage, — 

“ Folks that go a- visiting hadn’t ought to be 
difficult with their victuals.” 

“ Can you imagine anything more dreadful than 
to live in such a place?” exclaimed Polly, as they 
drove away, after being conducted over the estab- 
lishment. “ I’d work and scrimp, year after year, 
rather than just sit down and be supported by the 
town.” 

“Yes,” answered Jessie; “but I suppose they 
do have real good times, in their way.” 

“So does a cat that eats her milk, and then 
goes to sleep in the sun,” returned Polly. “ That 
may be their way, but I’m thankful it isn’t mine.” 


316 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“I presume all they care for is to have enough 
to eat, and to keep warm in winter and cool in 
summer,” said Alan. “Some of them looked as 
old as the Rocky Mountains, and I don’t see why 
they shouldn’t live forever, doing nothing but sun 
themselves.” 

“I’d rather live a little shorter time, and live 
a little harder, while I’m about it,” said Polly. 
“ I think I prefer wearing out to rusting out.” 

It was late in the afternoon when they reached 
the town once more, and drove up the street to 
Polly’s house. Mrs. Adams was at the gate, 
watching for them. 

“ At last ! ” she exclaimed. “ I was really get- 
ting quite anxious about you, for fear Cob had 
run away, or you were lost. Aren’t you hungry ? 
Where have you been ? ” 

“ Oh, no, we aren’t hungry,” said Alan, as he 
jumped out to help Polly to the ground. “ We’ve 
been to dinner at the poorhouse, and Jessie has 
disgraced us all, by refusing to eat cabbage.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 

They had all been at the Langs’s that afternoon. 
The third of June was Florence’s fourteenth birth- 
day, and Mrs. Lang had celebrated the day by 
giving a little afternoon tea on the broad piazza 
overlooking the grounds. It had been a pretty 
sight, with the dainty gowns of the girls, and the 
active figures of the few boys who had been 
favored with invitations to share in the games on 
the lawn. The ever-present amateur photographer 
had thought so too, apparently, and from his 
position in the street, he had already aimed his 
detective camera at them, when Alan discovered 
him and gave the alarm, only just in time to 
prevent his stolen success. 

Polly and Jean walked home with the Hap- 
goods in the early twilight, and, refusing Mrs. 
Hapgood’s invitation to go into the house, the 
girls settled themselves on the two high-backed 
seats at either side of the broad front porch, and 

317 


318 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


gave themselves up to the luxury of talking over 
the event of the day. 

“ It must be fun to he able to have company, 
and do it up in such splendid style as Mrs. Lang 
does,” said Jean a little enviously, as she pulled 
out the bunch of pink clover she had worn at her 
belt. 

“ It was lovely, wasn’t it ? ” assented Molly. 
“Mrs. Lang doesn’t do it often, but when she 
does have a party, it is always perfect.” 

“ After all,” said Katharine, “ it’s all from the 
outside, somehow. I don’t know whether you 
understand what I mean, but I know, myself.” 

“I’m glad you do, Kit,” said her sister disre- 
spectfully ; “ for it’s certain that nobody else does. 
Remember that we are young, and explain your- 
self a little.” 

“ I did really mean something, Jessie,” said 
Katharine. “ With Mrs. Lang, it seems as if she 
set the day and gave her orders to the servants, 
and that's all there was about it. Of course she 
entertains charmingly, and all that ; but it makes 
me feel, all the time, as if she did it to pay her 
debts, and not because she likes to have us there. 
When we go to — well, to Polly’s, for instance, I 
never think of that, for Mrs. Adams always acts 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


319 


as if she enjoyed us as much as we enjoy being 
there.” 

“She does,” answered Polly, with conviction. 
“She says she never half grew up, for she likes 
young people now better than she does those of 
her own age.” 

“ It must be horrid to have to give parties, 
whether you want to or not, just because some- 
body else has invited you,” remarked Molly. 

“ That’s the way they all do in society, 
though,” said Jessie, with a knowing air. 

“Well, if that’s society, then I don’t want any 
of it,” said Polly ungratefully, while she ran her 
fingers through her hair and stood it wildly on 
end. “ I just want my friends, and I want them 
whenever I feel like it ; but I don’t care anything 
about having a crowd of people round in the way, 
just because it’s fashionable, when I don’t care a 
snap for them. If I ever grow up and come out, 
as they call it, I’m going to like my friends for 
themselves, and not for their clothes and their 
parties and their good dinners. I can buy those 
at a hotel, if I get hungry.” 

“ And when hotels fail, there is always the poor- 
house,” suggested Jean. “ But, girls, do you ever 
want to be very, very rich, just for a little while ? ” 


320 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“I don’t think I ever stopped to think much 
about it,” answered Polly; “but I suppose it 
would be fun.” 

“ ’Tisn’t so much that I want more things than 
I have,” said Jean; “but, not often, only just once 
in a while, I do so wish I could go ahead and be 
real extravagant, spend ever so much money for 
all sorts of foolish things, have parties and fine 
clothes, and travel everywhere I wanted. I know 
perfectly well that I shouldn’t enjoy myself half 
so much as I do now, when I have to work for all 
I get ; but still, I’d like to try the other, just for a 
change.” 

“ And then, after a little while, you’d be long- 
ing to get back again,” returned Polly. “ I don’t 
believe life is all fun, even to people that are very 
rich. I never saw anybody yet that I wanted to 
change places with.” 

“Let’s all tell what we would do, if we were 
very rich and could have just what we wanted,” 
suggested Alan, from the step. 

“ All right, only do come in under cover, child,” 
said Polly, in a maternal tone ; “ or else you’ll be 
so stiff to-morrow that you can’t move.” And she 
tucked up the skirt of her best gown, to make 
room for the lad, who obediently settled himself 
between her and Katharine. 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


321 


44 Go it, Jean,” he said; “you started us to 
wishing, so it’s only fair you should speak first. 
What would you do, if you could have your 
choice ? ” 

44 Study, till I knew everything there was to be 
known,” returned Jean, without hesitation. 44 I’d 
go to college here, and then I’d go to Europe, to 
one city after another, and learn all I could in each.” 

44 You’d be a perfect valley of dry bones, then,” 
commented Polly. 44 People that know everything 
are very stupid.” 

44 1 wouldn’t be,” said Jean. 44 I’d found colleges 
with my money, and go round lecturing to them, 
till they knew just as much as I did.” 

44 H’m ! ” said Alan. 44 What will you do, Poll? ” 

Polly laughed. 

44 It would be hard to choose, but I think I’d 
begin by adopting about twenty smallToys. Then, 
if I had any time left, I’d — I’d — oh, I think per- 
haps I’d like to write a book of poems.” 

44 Good for you, Poll! How I envy the boys, 
only you’d make them all into doctors. Molly ? ” 

44 1 would travel, all over the whole world, and 
down into Australia,” returned Molly. 44 I’d go 
to Russia and Spain and China and the Nile, and 
stay everywhere just as long as I wanted to.” 


322 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Who wouldn’t like to do that?” said Jean. 
“ Katharine, what will you do ? ” 

“ I’d have a lovely house somewhere in Europe, 
Venice, perhaps, or else Paris, and it should be 
full of magnificent pictures. And then I’d have 
my friends come and stay with me for a year at a 
time ; and I’d have young artists come and live 
there, and give them lessons, — not teach them, 
you know, but pay for them, to give them a start, 
when they couldn’t afford it. And when they had 
learned to paint and were ready to go home, I’d 
pay their expenses for a year, till they were able 
to support themselves. And then I’d help poor 
students through college, and do ever so many 
things like that.” 

“ Katharine, you are modest in your plans ! ” said 
Molly, laughing. “How much of an income do 
you expect td have ? ” 

“I didn’t know we were limited,” Katharine 
answered. “I thought we could have whatever 
we wished.” 

“That was the idea,” said Alan. “Go on, 
Jessie; what would you do if you had all the 
money in the world ? ” 

“Just what I intend to do now,” she replied 
coolly, “ be a doctor.” 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


323 


“ What ! ” And Molly stared at her cousin with 
wide-open eyes. 

“Yes, I think that’s what I mean to do,” an- 
swered Jessie. “I believe I should rather like it, 
and if I can tease mamma into letting me try, I’m 
coming East again, in a few years, to study.” 

“Well, you must be in want of something to 
do,” said Molly, “ if you have any idea of patch- 
ing up broken bones and getting yourself exposed 
to small-pox and all sorts of fevers. But go on, 
Alan ; it’s your turn.” 

“ Let’s see,” said Alan reflectively ; “ first of all, 
I’d get over my rheumatism, and then, for a few 
years, I’d be the very best base-ball player in the 
world. Then, after I was too old for that, I’d 
travel round a little while, and then I’d settle 
down and be — ” 

Polly listened breathlessly for the decision. 

“Be what ? ” she asked eagerly. 

“An undertaker.” 

“ Oh, Alan, how mean of you ! ” protested 
Jessie. “ Here we’ve all been and told our wishes 
as truly as we could, and now you are just mak- 
ing fun of us. That isn’t fair.” 

“Isn’t it?” And Alan laughed teasingly. 
“ How do you know I haven’t told truly ? But, 


324 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


to be honest, I think I’d go into partnership with 
either Polly or you. I’d like to be a first-class 
doctor, or else a great author.” 

“ Poems ? ” inquired Polly sympathetically. 

“ Poems ! No ; nor novels either, nor any such 
trash as that,” returned the boy scornfully. “ I’d 
write great, long books with real solid work in 
them, history, or else some kind of science, books 
that wouldn’t be forgotten just as soon as they 
were read, but ones that would help the world 
along by making people know more and more, 
the more they studied them.” 

u I wonder if we shall any of us ever get what 
we want,” said Jean thoughtfully. “ Jessie 
stands the best chance.” 

“You wouldn’t say so, if you knew mamma 
as well as Kit and I do,” returned Jessie, laugh- 
ing. “ I shan’t have an easy time, when I try 
to persuade her to let me carry out my plan. 
She wouldn’t be any more horrified if I wanted 
to be a farmer and plant my own potatoes.” 

“ What will Florence be, I wonder,” said Polly. 
“ Tt would have to be something very pretty and 
dainty, or it would never suit her.” 

“Florence? Her future is all cut out,” said 
Jean. “Didn’t Mrs. Hapgood tell it, last Hal- 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


825 


lowe’en, a devoted husband and a beautiful 
home? She’ll have everything she can possibly 
want, and she’ll keep it all in apple pie order, 
and she and her husband will do nothing but bill 
and coo all day long.” 

“I don’t believe it,” said Molly, laughing at 
the sentimental picture which Jean had called 
up. “I think Florence has more to her than all 
that.” 

“ What more can she want ? ” asked Katharine. 
“ If she is a perfect wife in a happy home, there 
isn’t anything much better for any woman.” 

“But it’s getting dark, and I must go,” said 
Polly, as she rose. “ Come, Jean ; mamma will 
think I am lost. Good night, girls.” 

In spite of their assurances that they were not 
at all timid, Alan insisted on going with the girls ; 
so they stopped to speak to Mrs. Adams, then 
walked on together as far as Jean’s gate, where 
they lingered, talking, for a minute or two. 

“ Come in now, Alan,” said Polly, as they 
reached her house again ; “ it’s early, really, and 
Jerusalem’s out there on the piazza, all alone. 
You know she always likes to see you.” 

Alan hesitated for a moment, but the last fading 
light of the warm June day was too tempting, and 


326 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


he went in. Mrs. Adams rose from her piazza 
chair to meet them, and stepped forward into the 
faint light which shone out through the closely 
drawn shade of the parlor window. 

“ Yes, it is pleasant out here,” she answered 
Polly ; “ but if you children are going to sit out- 
side, you must have some wraps, for it is quite 
cool. Polly dear, just run in to get a shawl to 
put on, and bring the afghan to tuck around Alan. 
It’s on the parlor sofa.” 

Polly vanished through the open door. When 
she came back, she was laughing. 

“ Why didn’t you tell me they were in 
there, Jerusalem ? ” she asked, as she tossed the 
afghan to Alan, and then settled herself on a 
sweet-grass mat at her mother’s feet. “Aunt 
Jane is reading aloud a report of something or 
other, and Mr. Baxter looks so bored. He 
yawned like a chasm when I went in.” 

“Perhaps you disturbed him in the middle of 
a nap,” suggested Alan. 

“ Maybe I did. I don’t blame him for getting 
sleepy,” responded Polly pityingly. “It all seemed 
to be about convict labor and penal servitude and 
such things. I shouldn’t wonder if something 
was the matter in Russia.” 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


327 


Then they were silent, watching the lazy shad- 
ows from the full moon creep over the lawn, till 
there came a footstep on the walk and a voice 
called, — 

“ So you are all making the most of the moon- 
light, are you ? ” 

“ Oh, Papa Adams ! ” exclaimed Polly joyfully. 
“ Home so early ? ” 

“Yes,” answered the doctor, as he dropped into 
the chair next Alan ; “and I’m going to play all 
the rest of the evening. How comes on our future 
doctor ? ” 

“ Doctor ! ” echoed Polly. “ He said to-night 
that he’d rather be an undertaker than anything 
else.” 

“ Why, how’s that ? ” said the doctor, laughing. 
“ It isn’t a week since Polly told me you were 
going to follow in my footsteps.” 

“ Oh, Polly has doctor on the brain, just now,” 
answered the boy. “She’s started up Jessie on 
the subject, and they do nothing but talk of pills 
and skeletons. To-night we were discussing what 
we’d like best to do, and the girls had such wild 
plans that I thought I’d bring them down to earth 
again.” 

“ If you can’t make better puns than that, don’t 


328 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


try to make any, Alan,” said Polly severely. 
“ But our plans weren’t wild a bit ; we only said 
just what we would do, if we had all the money 
in the world.” 

“And what was the decision,” asked the doctor; 
“ cooking and sewing, or society belles ? ” 

“Neither,” Polly was beginning earnestly, when 
Alan broke in, — 

“ I’ll tell you, Dr. Adams, and you can see for 
yourself if they weren’t a little extra. Jean was 
going to know everything ; Molly was going to 
travel everywhere ; Polly was .going to found an 
orphan asylum in her house, and write poetry, 
besides; and Katharine wanted to support poor 
but honest young men by the dozen. I think 
that’s all but Jessie. She’s going to study medi- 
cine.” 

“ Such aspiring young people ! ” said the doctor. 
“You’ll need all the treasures of the earth at your 
disposal, if you have such magnificent plans. If 
you are going to undertake so much, then good-by 
to bread-making and Bridget. And that reminds 
me to tell you, children, Bridget is going home, 
the last of next week.” 

“Next week?” said Mrs. Adams. “What is 
that for ? Her year isn’t over.” 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


329 


“No, but she has gained faster than we thought 
.die could, and she is now almost as well as ever. 
If she hadn’t been taken in time, it would have 
been much harder to cure her ; but now we think 
that, if she is careful, she can go home to her 
family again. We told her so to-night, and she 
was half wild for a moment ; but then she began 
to cry, because she must leave her ‘dear young 
ladies,’ as she called you.” 

“ Oh, dear, what shall we ever do without her?” 
sighed Polly. “ I was really getting quite fond of 
her. Now I’ll have to devote myself to Dicky and 
the other babies.” 

“ Bridget has improved in your hands,” said the 
doctor. “ You girls, without knowing it, have 
been doing the best kind of mission work, and the 
Bridget who goes home will be a much more 
attractive Bridget than the one who came here, 
for she has learned that there is something a little 
beyond her old life of drudgery that she can hope 
for and, in the end, gain.” 

“ Hark ! What’s that ? ” exclaimed Mrs. Adams 
abruptly. 

There was a sudden commotion in the parlor, the 
sound of excited voices, mingled with inarticulate 
cries ; then Aunt Jane called, in a tone of agony, — 


330 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Isabel! Polly! John! Quick, quick ! ” 

Springing up, the doctor and his wife, followed 
by Polly and Alan, ran to the parlor door where 
they looked in upon a strange scene, for a full 
understanding of which it is necessary to go back 
a little, to see what had been passing inside the 
room, while the others had been talking on the 
piazza. 

For the past two or three months, it had been 
Mr. Baxter’s regular habit to spend every Wednes- 
day evening with the woman of his choice, when 
he either talked of his children and their peculiari- 
ties, or his servants and their vices, or, on the 
other hand, Miss Roberts attempted to form his 
mind, as she called it, by improving and instruc- 
tive conversation. Their interviews, it must be 
confessed, were never of the nature of a duet. 
Either Mr. Baxter prattled about trifles, and Aunt 
J ane was politely indifferent ; or else Miss Roberts 
conversed learnedly, and Mr. Baxter dozed off into 
little “ cat-naps,” w^aked again with an apologetic 
start, and immediately assumed a look of owlish 
wisdom, as if to convey the idea that he listened 
to the best advantage with his eyes shut. Such a 
beginning, when they spent but one evening a week 
together, did not hold out very brilliant prospects 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


331 


of enlivening domestic intercourse; but the par- 
ties most nearly concerned appeared to be satisfied, 
so no one else needed to complain. 

On this particular Wednesday evening, Mr. 
Baxter was unusually drowsy. His youngest 
child, he fretfully explained, had been ill all the 
night before, and his own rest had been badly 
broken. But in spite of this warning, Miss 
Roberts had taken up from the table a pamphlet 
on prison reform, and announced her intention 
of reading it aloud. In vain Mr. Baxter looked 
about for some way of escape. Seeing none, he 
seated himself in the darkest corner of the room, 
with a lingering hope that his lapses into dream- 
land might pass unnoticed. He was not disap- 
pointed. In a few moments, Aunt Jane had 
become so absorbed in her subject that she read 
on and on, quite unconscious of the fact that 
her guest, from yawning behind his hand, and 
nodding now forward, now backward, and now 
sideways, had passed on into a quiet slumber, 
unbroken by dreams of restless children and hard- 
ened criminals. 

But Polly’s sudden entrance had roused him, 
and he propped himself up anew, with a manful 
resolve to hold his eyes open, or die. Unfortu- 


382 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


nately it was by no means so easy for Mr. Baxter 
to hold his mouth shut, and yawn followed yawn, 
wider and still more wide, until his hand could no 
longer cover the opening. And yet Miss Roberts 
read on endlessly, remorselessly. Suddenly she 
was interrupted by Mr. Baxter who sprang up 
wildly and, with his body bent forward, his eyes 
distended and his mouth wide open, began plung- 
ing distractedly about the room, with both hands 
to his face, as if in mortal anguish. 

“ Oh, Solomon ! What is it ? ” And Miss 
Roberts sprang up, in her turn. 

But Mr. Solomon Baxter only paused to clasp 
his face more closely and groan, and then resumed 
his former antics. Miss Roberts was seriously 
alarmed. Had the man suddenly gone mad ? 
Was he dying? 

“ Solomon ! Solomon ! ” she implored him. “ Tell 
me, only speak to me and tell me what is the 
matter ! ” 

“ ’Y W,” replied Mr. Baxter vehemently, but 
not very intelligibly. 

44 What?” Miss Roberts hurried to his side 
and, bending, gazed up into his face which was 
still turned floor ward. 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


833 


“ ’Y ’ou’ ; I ’aw’ ’uh’ ’y ’ou’,” answered Mr. 
Baxter again, this time pointing down his throat. 

Miss Roberts saw that there was some trouble 
with his mouth. It was a relief to find that her 
lover was of sound mind. From his broken 
speech, she was beginning to fear some new, 
strange form of paralysis, but his wild lunges 
about the room relieved those apprehensions. It 
was only his mouth, then. She smiled sympathet- 
ically. 

“I understand,” she said; “it is the toothache. 
It is very painful, while it lasts, but I have some- 
thing that will stop it. Just shut your mouth 
and make yourself as comfortable as you can, and 
I will get it.” 

But Mr. Baxter shook his head sadly. 

“ I ’aw’ ’uh’ ’ih,” he answered. 

Then Aunt Jane’s courage began to fail. 

“ Can’t shut it ! Oh, Solomon, Solomon ! What 
is it?” 

“I ’o ’00’,” he replied testily. Then, clasping 
his jaw in both hands, he began to walk the floor 
again, groaning dismally. Miss Roberts’s tears 
were flowing. She felt sure that Mr. Baxter’s 
hours were numbered, and that she would soon 


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be forced to look on at his funeral. Could she 
be a mother to his little ones, thus doubly be- 
reaved? These thoughts passed in rapid suc- 
cession through her brain ; then, raising her voice 
to the utmost, she called for aid. That done, for 
the first and only time in the course of her life, 
Aunt Jane Roberts, the strong-minded, the firm, 
sank down on the sofa and quietly fainted away. 
This was the state of affairs which met the doc- 
tor’s gaze, as he entered the room. 

To his practised eye there was no ground for 
doubt. He recognized the disease and the remedy. 
It only needed one pull with his strong hands, 
one roar of anguish from Mr. Baxter, and the 
dislocated jaw was slipped back into place once 
more. Then the doctor turned to help his wife 
who was trying to restore Aunt Jane to conscious- 
ness. At length she gasped, opened one eye, 
gasped again, opened both and faintly whispered, — 

“Is he dead? Tell me gently. Was it lock- 
jaw?” 

Then the doctor’s professional dignity gave way. 
Dropping into the nearest chair, he laughed, and 
laughed, and laughed again, while Mr. Baxter 
grew more and more shamefaced, and Miss 


MR. BAXTER TAKES A NAP. 


335 


Roberts more and more exasperated at his un- 
seemly merriment. When he could speak again, 
he answered, — 

“ Lockjaw ; no. This was all your fault, Jane. 
You read till the poor man was so sleepy that 
he fairly yawned his jaw out of joint.” 

And this time the doctor’s shout was echoed by 
his wife and the two children. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 

The next afternoon Katharine and Florence sat 
on the side piazza of the Hapgood house, Florence 
in the hammock, Katharine curled up among the 
cushions of a bamboo lounge, idly stroking the 
back of Scott, Molly’s plump tiger kitten. 

“Well, Scotty,” she was saying caressingly, as 
she held up the little creature and gazed straight 
into its yellow eyes, “are you feeling happy in 
your mind to-day? Well, so am I.” 

“ What a queer name ! ” said Florence. “ Where 
did Molly ever get it ? ” 

Katharine laughed. 

“ I should think you might know,” she answered. 
“Alan was responsible for it, of course. Don’t 
you know how he is always saying 4 Great Scott ’ ? ” 

44 That is it, is it?” said Florence. Then she 
returned to the subject of which they had just 
been speaking. 44 When do you think you will go, 
Katharine ? ” 

“In about two weeks, I think,” Katharine re- 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


33T 


plied, as she rolled the cat over on its back and 
tickled it under its furry chin. “ Papa wrote, 
some time ago, that he wanted us to be at home 
before July, for then he is going to start on a trip 
to Alaska, and we are both to go with him. He 
hasn’t mentioned it for a month, now, but I sup- 
pose of course he means to go. I hope so, I am 
sure, for I love to travel, and Jessie has never 
taken a real long journey, except to come here.” 

“ To Alaska ? How I envy you ! ” said Florence 
longingly. 

“ I wish you could go with us,” answered Katha- 
rine. “ It will be a lovely journey, I know, for it 
is so different from anything else we have seen. 
I’ll tell you, Florence, you must come out to see 
us, some day, and then we’ll go again. If it were 
not for this Alaska plan, I should hate to go home, 
for I have had such a pleasant year, here in New 
England. Sometimes I feel as if I had never 
known what it was to really live, till I came here ; 
and Jessie dreads going worse than I do.” 

“ You’ll probably forget us, before you’ve been 
away a month,” said Florence lightly. 

Katharine moved among her cushions until she 
was facing her friend. 

“ Do you think I am so fickle as that, Florence ? ” 


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she asked, and her tone was a little hurt. “ If that 
is all my friendship amounts to, it isn’t worth the 
having.” 

“I didn’t mean that,” said Florence; “but it 
wouldn’t be strange if you did forget us, Kit, when 
you are back again among your other friends.” 

“ What an absurd idea, Florence ! Do you think 
I shall ever forget Bridget and Job and the cook- 
ing club, and all the rest of our good times ? I 
shan’t be nearly as likely to, just because we don’t 
have anything like it in Omaha. And if I do come 
out next winter, I know that, right in the middle 
of all the parties and things, I shall have little 
homesick twinges for our frolics in the attic, and 
the cosy talks around Mrs. Adams’s open fire.” 

“It must be so exciting to come out,” sighed 
Florence. “We can’t do it in this little place, for 
we’re never in, very much. I should be sorry to 
leave the girls, Kit, but I almost wish I lived in a 
city, the way you do.” 

“ You wouldn’t, if you had tried it,” said Kath- 
arine decidedly. “I used to long for the time 
when I could be in society, as mamma is. Why, 
only last year I felt as if I couldn’t wait; but 
since I have been here, I don’t care half so much 
about it. It will probably be fun for just a little 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


339 


while, and then I shall get tired of it and wish I 
could stop, and be cross and pale and headache-y, 
the way mamma used to be. But, at least, I’ve 
had this one year, and I can think about it over 
and over again, and remember just what we have 
all done and said. Perhaps sometime we can all 
be together at our house.” 

“ I do wish you didn’t have to go away,” said 
Florence a little forlornly. “We feel as if you 
belonged to us, Katharine, and we four girls don’t 
seem half so many as we did before you and Jessie 
came.” 

“ What an idea ! And, besides, you have Alan, 
and he is equal to all the rest of us put together. 
Dear fellow, how I shall miss him ! I wish I had 
a brother. But, Florence, it isn’t as if we weren’t 
likely to drop in on you again, before long. It 
takes such a little while to go back and forth, 
now; and I mean to go to Europe in a year or 
two, and then I shall stop here on the way. It 
isn’t as bad as it would be if papa couldn’t afford 
to let us travel.” 

But Florence shook her head. 

“No,” said she, “I know how it will be. You 
think now that you’ll come, but you’ll go out 
there and get so interested in society that you will 


340 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


forget all about New England, and all about us. 
Or, if you do remember us, it will be when you 
are dancing all night, and you’ll stop a minute to 
pity us because we go to bed and to sleep like civ- 
ilized beings.” And Florence laughed, in spite of 
herself, at the idea. 

“ Now, Florence, that isn’t fair to me. I really 
don’t mean to be just a silly girl who thinks of 
nothing but her clothes. I shall have to go into 
society, but I believe I can be good for a little 
something besides that. If I find I can’t do both, 
why, then I’ll give up the society part of it ; but 
I won’t be a do-nothing all my days. I know 
there are always more chances for a woman to do 
good than there are women to do it, and I mean to 
keep my eyes open to look for my own especial 
chance. I don’t believe that all the helpful ideas 
auntie and Mrs. Adams have given me this year 
were intended to be thrown away, and I think the 
time will come when I can use them. If not, why 
were they given me? Wait a few years, Florence, 
and see if I am just a butterfly. It is only fair to 
give me the chance to win my spurs.” 

Katharine spoke earnestly, for her whole soul 
was in her words. The past year had been a 
revelation to her, and her rapid development 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


341 


towards womanhood had been in the line of all 
that was truest and noblest in her character. She 
had come to New England an unformed girl 
whose nature was one of endless possibilities, only 
waiting for the word which should make them 
actual and turn her in one way or the other. 
The word was spoken and, thanks to her aunt’s 
influence and to her association with the simple, 
natural girls about her, the impulse given was in 
the right direction. It was as if Katharine had 
suddenly been born into a new life. No drifting, 
idle maturity could satisfy her now ; her woman- 
hood must be one of purpose and of action. The 
time for it had come much nearer than she 
thought. 

But now her little outburst was followed by a 
hearty, — 

“ Good for you, Kit ! ” 

Both the girls started and looked up, to see 
Alan’s head stretched out from his window, with 
a look of perfect approval on his boyish face. 

“ I didn’t mean to listen,” he said penitently. 
“I was up here reading and, honestly, I didn’t 
hear a thing but Kit’s last speech. That was such 
a good one that I did just want to pat her on the 
back. I’m going to stop up my ears now.” 


342 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ Come down and stay with us, Alan,” his 
cousin said. 

“No, thanks; not even you can bribe me to 
leave this book. I want to know what they found 
in the bottom of the cave.” And Alan returned 
to his reading. 

However, the unexpected interruption had put 
an end to all serious talk, and the girls were chat- 
ting idly, now of this matter, now of that, when a 
boy stepped up on the piazza. He had a telegram 
in his hand. 

“ Miss Katharine W. Shepard?” he asked, refer- 
ring to his address book. 

Katharine rose, dropping the kitten on the floor. 

“ I am Miss Shepard,” she said, taking the 
envelope from his hand and signing the receipt. 

“ I hope nothing is wrong,” said Florence, eye- 
ing the yellow paper with a true feminine dislike 
of a telegram. 

“Wrong? Oh, no; it is probably from papa. 
He often telegraphs us,” said Katharine carelessly, 
as she tore open the end of the envelope. 

She glanced at the paper in her hand, then 
looked a little surprised. 

“ It’s from mamma,” she said. “ Papa has prob- 
ably changed his plans. Listen : 4 Start for home 
first of next week. Have written.’ ” 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


343 


“ The first of next week ! That is so soon, Kath- 
arine; we can’t let you go.” And Florence sat 
up in the hammock and stared at her friend in 
bewilderment. 

“ It is very sudden,” said Katharine slowly. “ It 
doesn’t seem as if I could go. But isn’t it strange ? 
Papa must have decided, all at once, to go to 
Alaska sooner than he planned, for this is such a 
little bit of a warning. Let me see, this is Thurs- 
day, and we can’t get a letter before Monday. W e 
must start on Tuesday. How I do hate to go ! ” 
And Katharine choked down a sudden lump that 
had risen in her throat. “ Come in,” she added. 
“ I must tell auntie.” 

“No, I must go home,” said Florence. “Oh, 
dear! Only four days more, Katharine ! ” 

“ Don’t cry, dear, ” said Katharine protectingly. 
“ Remember it isn’t for always, for I shall come 
East often.” 

She stood and watched her guest until she was 
out of sight, then ran into the house in search of 
her aunt, to whom she showed the telegram. In 
spite of herself, Mrs. Hapgood was very uneasy 
over the sudden summons to the girls. It cer- 
tainly did seem strange that the message should 
come from their mother ; but for Katharine’s sake, 


344 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


her aunt hid her fears as best she could, and only 
tried to make the girls’ last days as pleasant as 
possible, while she waited with a burning impa- 
tience for the letter which should explain every- 
thing. However, the girls, accustomed as they 
were to their father’s rapid changes in his plans, 
were not at all disturbed, but quietly made their 
arrangements for the journey, sure that Mr. 
Shepard would either come for them, or else meet 
them on the way. 

Friday and Saturday passed only too quickly 
for the young people, who were dreading the ap- 
proaching separation, and Sunday afternoon found 
them all assembled at Mrs. Hapgood’s for a fare- 
well dinner together. But it was rather a silent, 
subdued party that gathered about the table ; the 
conversation was fitful and broken by long pauses, 
and the jokes were rather forced and feeble ; while 
Molly’s red eyes and Florence’s white cheeks 
showed that something was wrong. If it was bad 
at the table, it was worse when they all sat in the 
front porch after dinner, with nothing to do but 
watch the darkness settle slowly down over the 
valley, and listen to the last sleepy twitterings of 
the birds. They talked little as they sat there. 
Now and then Alan would attempt a jest, or Katha- 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


345 


rine would try to start some fresh subject ; but soon 
the voices would die away, and another silence fol- 
low the momentary interruption. So they lingered 
until long past the time for separation. At length 
Polly started up. 

“ Come, girls,” said she ; “ I can’t stand this any 
longer. We may as well say good night now, for 
it won’t be any easier by and by.” 

“ Oh, why did you girls ever come here and 
make us so fond of you, and then have to go and 
leave us ! ” wailed Jean. “ I wish you hadn’t 
come in the first place.” 

“ I don’t,” said Polly steadily ; “ I’m glad I’ve 
had just this one year of knowing you. It’s ever 
so much better than nothing, and I’m thankful 
even for this. Besides,” she added, valiantly 
brushing away the tears, “I don’t mean to cry 
yet, for we have all day to-morrow, and Tuesday 
morning; and then, you’ll come back again some 
day. When you are gone is time enough to do 
the crying.” And smiling resolutely, she bade 
them good night, then went away up the street, 
with the tears running down her cheeks. 

“Come, Alan,” said Katharine, early the next 
morning ; “ come down to the post-office with me. 
My letter from home must be here by this time, 


346 


HALF A DOZEN GIKLS. 


and I’m in a hurry to get it, to see if papa is going 
to come for us. It takes Jessie so long to get 
ready, that we won’t wait for her.” 

They walked away together, laughing and talk- 
ing as they went, determined to forget the morrow, 
and only enjoy the bright, beautiful morning and 
their pleasure in each other’s society. At the 
post-office, Alan ran inside, leaving his cousin to 
wait for him at the door. 

“ Here it is, sure enough, Kit,” he said, as he 
joined her again. 

“ What a little thin one, and from mamma, 
too ! ” said Katharine, as she deliberately tore it 
open. “ Papa must be away on one of his busi- 
ness trips, I suppose.” 

Alan made no reply, but left her to read her 
letter while he walked along at her side, whistling 
softly to himself. All at once he heard a low 
exclamation, like a half-smothered cry of pain. 
Turning quickly, he saw his cousin’s face was 
ashy white, and her breath was coming in short, 
quick gasps. 

“ Katharine ! What is it ? ” he cried, in terror 
at the change in her face. 

For answer, she held out the letter to him. 

“ Oh, Alan, what does it mean ? ” 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


347 


He thought she was going to fall, and threw his 
arm around her to support her, but she rallied 
quickly. 

“ Read it, Alan,” she begged. “ I can’t seem to 
understand it.” 

Alan read it. But before he was half through 
it, his face was as white as hers had been. 

“Oh, Kit!” he began; then he paused, not 
daring to offer one word of pity. 

The short letter was the bitter outcry of a self- 
ish woman who forgot her children’s suffering in 
her own, for it bore its sad message abruptly and 
with no word to soften the blow. Mr. Shepard 
had proved to be a defaulter and, after he had for 
years been using money from the bank of which 
he was president, he had saved himself, on the 
eve of exposure, by hastily quitting the country, 
leaving his wife and children to bear the burden 
of his guilt as best they could. 

“Papa has taken money that didn’t belong to 
him ; is that it, Alan ? ” said Katharine slowly, as 
if dazed by the sudden shock. “I can’t believe 
it. How can mamma say such a cruel thing?” 
she added indignantly. 

Alan made no reply, beyond drawing the girl’s 
limp hand through his arm. Katharine felt the 


348 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


unspoken sympathy of his gesture and pressed 
closer to him. 

“Do say you don’t believe it, Alan,” she urged. 
“You must know that papa couldn’t do such a 
thing.” 

“ Oh, Kit, I wish I knew what to say ! ” the boy 
burst out. “ I am so awfully sorry for you, dear.” 

But Katharine stopped him with a motion of 
her hand. 

“ Don’t pity me, Alan, or I shall begin to cry ; 
and I musn’t do that here. We must hurry home 
to tell auntie.” And she quickened her pace, 
almost to a run. 

Alan kept by her side, watching the white, set 
face, and marvelling that she did not give way to 
her sorrow. His own eyes were full of tears, and 
his throat was aching with a dull, dry pain ; but 
his cousin, after her first exclamations, was per- 
fectly quiet. So they went up the long, sunny 
street, deaf to the gay bird-songs, blind to the 
sunlight that slanted down through the arching 
elms and set the dewdrops to twinkling, only 
anxious to reach the safe refuge of the old house, 
and the motherly woman within it. 

They found her on the piazza watching for 
them, eager for the news the letter must bring. 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


349 


Even then, Katharine’s self-control did not leave 
her. Pausing before her aunt, she said quietly, 
as she held out the letter, — 

“Do you remember our talk last fall, auntie? 
My call has come, and I must answer : 4 ready.’ ” 

“ Katharine ! ” 

Mrs. Hapgood snatched the note, read it, and 
turned impulsively to the young girl before her. 

“You poor child!” she began; but Katharine 
interrupted her, as she had done Alan. 

“ Don’t worry about me, auntie. But can you 
tell Jessie now, please? I am afraid I can’t.” 
And she turned away and went into the house. 

When Mrs. Hapgood came down-stairs, an hour 
later, it seemed as if a shadow had always rested 
on the house, the sorrow it contained had so soon 
become a part of their lives. Up-stairs, Jessie had 
cried until she was tired, stopped to listen vaguely 
to her aunt’s comforting words, then cried again, 
but all without any real understanding of the 
trouble which had come upon her. Down-stairs, 
Alan and Molly were walking the room, arm in 
arm, with a settled look of sadness which was 
strangely out of place on their young faces. Alan 
had told his sister the news as gently as he could, 
and she could only cling to him and cry, as she 


350 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


took in all the meaning of the shame and disgrace, 
all the consequences of the father’s sin upon the 
coming life of his children. 

“But where is Katharine?” asked Mrs. Hap- 
good anxiously. 

“ Isn’t she up-stairs ? ” said Molly. 

“ I haven’t seen her,” answered her mother. 

“ Why, we supposed she was with you ! ” And 
Alan hurried away to look for his cousin. 

At last he found her. Up in the familiar old 
garret that she had loved so well, close by the 
great gray chimney which seemed to be shielding 
her with its giant strength, there lay Katharine 
on the shabby old sofa, sobbing as if her heart 
must break. To the young lad, these unrestrained 
tears were much more alarming than her former 
quiet, and he dared not speak, as he sat down on 
the floor by her side, and put his brown hand 
against her cheek. 

“ Oh, Alan ! ” 

“Yes, Kit; I know.” 

“Let me have my cry out now,” she said 
brokenly. “ It must come sometime ; then I can 
be brave for mamma and Jessie.” 

Alan stole away to tell his mother where Katha- 
rine was, and then went back to her side. All 



“There lay Katharine on the shabby old sofa, sobbing as 
IF HER HEART MUST BREAK.” — Page 350. 




























































































































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KATHARINE’S CALL. 


351 


the morning he remained there, saying little, hut 
keeping near her with a simple, boyish devotion of 
which, in after years, she never lost the memory. 

When Katharine went down-stairs again, she 
appeared to have grown years older during that 
one morning. It was not that she was less 
beautiful than she had been ; but she seemed to 
have gained a new, gentle dignity which suddenly 
changed her from a child into a woman. As 
she entered the room, with her hand on Alan’s 
shoulder, she met them with a perfect composure 
which gave no hint of her trouble ; but they 
all felt instinctively that it was as she had said 
to her aunt, her call had come, and she had 
answered “ ready.” 

The day wore slowly away. They were to 
start on their journey, late the next afternoon, 
accompanied by Mrs. Hapgood, who had made 
up her mind to go to her sister for a few weeks, 
to help her through the sad changes which must 
inevitably follow. Late in the day, Mrs. Adams 
and Polly came in, for Molly had told them of 
the letter. Mrs. Adams took both the girls into 
her motherly arms, and her few whispered words 
were very tender, while Polly threw her arms 
around Katharine, as she said, — 


352 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“Alan has told me what you said, Kit, about 
your call’s coming, and I think it was grand ; hut 
it isn’t one bit more so than we expected, only 
it makes us proud to be your friends.” 

At length it was bedtime, and for the last 
time the girls went up to their pleasant room in 
the old Hapgood house. The whole place was 
in confusion, and trunks stood in the middle of 
the floor, with piles of clothing, books, and 
pictures heaped about them, just as they had been 
left in the morning. At sight of them, Jessie 
threw herself down on the bed. 

“ Oh, Kit ! ” she cried ; “ what are we going to 
do?” 

“Please don’t cry so, Jessie,” said Katharine 
wearily. “We must try not to be babyish about 
it.” 

“Babyish!” And Jessie turned on her petu- 
lantly. “ I do believe you don’t care, Katharine. 
Oh, poor papa ! ” Then, as she saw the pain in 
her sister’s face, she added, “ Forgive me, Kit ! 
I know you do care ; but how can you keep so 
quiet? It’s all so dreadful, and we shall be poor 
and alone, and nobody will care for us.” 

“ Hush, Jessie ! ” 

Her sister spoke almost sharply, for she felt 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


353 


her own courage fast giving way. Then, sitting 
down on the side of the bed, with her beautiful 
brown hair waving loose about her shoulders, she 
took her sister’s hand in hers. 

“Jessie dear,” she said gently; “listen to me, 
please. You and I mustn’t give up so and cry 
about this ; we must be brave and cheerful for 
mamma’s sake. Poor mamma is out there all 
alone, and we must go to her and help her to 
bear it all. We are stronger than she is, and we 
have each other, so we must help each other and 
help her. We’ve had a great many good times 
already, and nothing can take those away; but 
now comes the chance to show what we are, and 
whether we have any courage. There will be 
a great deal to do when we get home, so we have 
no right to give up and make ourselves ill with 
crying. Now we must go to bed and try to sleep, 
so we can be ready for to-morrow ; and — Oh, 
Jessie, if we only knew where papa was to-night ! 
He was always so good and kind that I know he 
has never done anything wicked.” 

Katharine’s head went down on the pillow 
beside Jessie’s, and the two daughters sobbed 
together over their father’s guilt. 

They were all at the station to see them off the 


354 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


next night. The sun was just setting as the train 
moved away, and the little group of three on the 
rear platform looked back to see its golden light 
fall upon the friends they were leaving : the girls, 
Alan, Dr. and Mrs. Adams, and even patient old 
Job, who stood quietly in the background, watch- 
ing the scene about him with a half wondering air 
of sympathy. 

Jessie turned to enter the car. 

“Wait just a minute more,” said Katharine 
wistfully. 

A sudden opening between the buildings gave 
her one more glimpse of the figures still standing 
there as they had left them, and Katharine 
strained her eyes to catch the parting wave of 
Alan’s cap, while her lips quivered. Then she 
exclaimed excitedly, — 

“ See, Jessie ! See ! ” 

They were just passing within sight of the hos- 
pital and, from a well-known window, a hand was 
waving a farewell to them. It was Bridget, who 
had begged to be moved to the window, that she 
might be the one to say the final good by, before 
the train went rushing away into the gathering 
twilight. 

“I feel as if I had just been to a funeral,” 


KATHARINE’S CALL. 


355 


sighed Molly, as she walked home with Polly ; for 
she and Alan were to stay with Mrs. Adams dur- 
ing their mother’s absence. 

“It was just like one,” said Jean sorrowfully. 

But Polly objected. 

“ No, girls,” she said ; “ no funeral was ever like 
this, for a funeral is all sad, and this isn’t. I’m 
sorry for them, more so than I can tell ; but, after 
all, it has given Katharine a chance to show how 
glorious she is. It just makes me glad to know 
such a magnificent girl.” 

And Alan added, — 

“Yes, you may talk all day about your heroines; 
hut I’ve just seen one of them, and it’s a sight I 
shan’t forget soon, either.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 

Indian summer had come once more, and the 
same soft haze which, only last year, the girls had 
seen over the blue Connecticut with its meadows 
and mountains, now rested quite as lovingly upon 
the dull waters of the Missouri, as they wound 
along between their low bluffs and level prairies. 
There, there had been the restful quiet of the old 
town, peacefully living on the reputation of its 
two centuries of strong, honorable life, justly 
proud of the famous names it had given to its 
state and country ; here, there was the ceaseless, 
unwearying bustle of a new civilization, the rest- 
less activity of a city whose glory was yet to be 
and whose present ambition was only to grow and 
to accumulate riches. All the contrast between 
the two places, all the change from the surround- 
ings of a year ago to the life of to-day were 
keenly felt by the young girl who was sitting on 
the piazza of a little house in Omaha, one morn- 
ing, idly enjoying the late autumn sunshine. 

356 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


357 


“Come out here a minute, Jessie,” she called 
suddenly, as she heard some one coming down the 
stairs behind her. “We shan’t have many more 
days like this, and do let’s take a few minutes to 
enjoy this one.” 

“But Aunt Jane would say it was sinful to 
waste the golden moments,” said Jessie, laughing, 
as, duster in hand, she came out on the steps. 

“Not a bit of it,” said the other. “I haven’t 
sat down before this since my breakfast, and I 
know that lunch will be all the better, if I take a 
few minutes to rest and breathe this lovely air. 
Where’s mamma ? ” 

“ She’s lying down ; she said her head ached. 
Oh, Kit, doesn’t this make you homesick for last 
year and all the girls ? ” 

“And Alan, too,” added Katharine. “Yes, it 
does, Jessie, whenever I stop to think of it. We 
did have a perfect year at auntie’s, and once in a 
while I wish we were back there. Do you remem- 
ber the day Job was loose, and they couldn’t catch 
him?” 

“‘I feel it in my bones,’ as Miss Bean would 
say,” said Jessie ; “ that the time will come when 
we shall all be together again. At least, we made 
the very most of our time.” 


358 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“True,” said Katharine thoughtfully; “and I 
don’t know what we should have done this summer, 
Jessie, if we hadn’t had those lessons in cooking. 
I had no idea then that we shouldn’t always have 
servants, and if we’d stayed here, we never should 
have known anything about housekeeping. And 
the worst of it is, I like it. I always knew I had 
plebeian tastes and, now I am used to it, I fairly 
revel in washing dishes.” 

“ I’m not half so homesick for the old house as 
I thought I should be,” said Jessie, while she med- 
itatively folded a series of tucks in her gingham 
apron. “ It was dreadful at first, having to leave 
the old place and the servants and the furniture ; 
but, after all, we haven’t had such a bad time. I 
don’t know as I want to do housework for a living, 
I prefer medicine ; but I don’t mind it a bit, for a 
while. If I’m to keep old maid’s hall, I want to 
know how to do it.” 

“Yes; but we can’t go on like this much longer, 
Jessie,” her sister replied. “ I was talking about 
it to mamma, only a few days ago. We must try 
to get a young girl to help about the house, for it 
is settled that you are to go back into school after 
Christmas.” 

“ ‘ Sufficient unto the day,’ ” said Jessie, laughing. 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


359 


“You know I’d much rather stay at home and 
help you than go back to school. Why must I 
go, any more than you ? ” 

“ I was supposed to be finished last year, ready 
to come out,” answered Katharine; “and so I 
ought to be finished enough to stay in. But when 
we get settled down for the winter, I mean to go 
on and do a little studying by myself, history or 
something. I don’t know yet just what it will be. 
You’ve had a hard summer and fall, Jessie,” she 
added, surveying her sister with a motherly air; 
“but you’ve gone through it splendidly, and I’m 
proud of you.” 

“ It’s no harder for me than for you,” responded 
Jessie sturdily; “and it hasn’t made half the 
difference in my plans. But there are times, 
Kit, when I do feel as if I must see papa 
again.” 

“I don’t dare let myself think about him 
much,” said Katharine slowly. “ It is one of the 
things we can’t undo, and must take as they 
come.” She was silent for a few moments, then 
added, with an evident effort to turn the conver- 
sation, “ Here comes the postman. I don’t sup- 
pose he has anything for us, though.” 

“Maybe he has,” answered Jessie hopefully. 


360 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


“ It is ever and ever so long since we heard from 
any of the girls.” 

The sisters sat watching the man as he came 
slowly down the street, stopping here and there 
to leave a part of his precious burden. 

‘‘Don’t you ever wish you could know just 
what is in all those letters ? ” asked Jessie, as she 
rested her chin in her hands. 

“No, I don’t know as I do,” replied Katharine. 
“ If it were all funny or interesting, it would be 
well enough; but think of all the letters that 
have sad or ugly things to tell. I do wish he 
would bring us one, though.” 

“ Perhaps he will. Yes, he’s going to ! ” And 
Jessie sprang down the steps to meet the man, 
who paused long enough to hand her a thick 
envelope, and then went on out of sight, quite 
disregarded by the girls who were all-absorbed in 
their mail. 

“ It’s yours,” said Jessie, as she deliberately 
mounted the steps once more ; “ but I can’t make 
out whose writing it is. Part of it looks like 
Alan’s, and part like Polly’s. It’s from some of 
them, anyway. Do see if you can make it out.” 
And she tossed the envelope into her sister’s lap. 

No true woman ever opens a letter to find out 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


361 


from whom it comes. Katharine carefully and 
minutely studied the one in her hand, without 
attempting to resort to the most natural method 
of obtaining an answer to the question. At 
length she raised her head with a laugh. 

“ It’s from them all,” she said. “ Polly wrote 
my name, Molly the city, and Alan the state. This 
is one of that boy’s pranks.” 

“ Do hurry to open it,” said Jessie impatiently. 

Katharine recklessly tore it open and drew out 
four separate sheets. 

“ I told you so,” she said triumphantly. “ And 
one from Mrs. Adams, too ! Which shall I take 
first? None of them are very long.” 

“ Begin with Molly,” said Jessie, settling herself 
comfortably to listen while her sister read, — 

“ Dear Katharine and Jessie, — I haven’t 
any idea who owes the other a letter, but I am 
getting so homesick for you that I shall write to 
you anyway. It isn’t that I have much to say, for 
it does seem as if nothing had happened since you 
left here. I wrote you, didn’t I, that the Langs 
have all gone abroad for a year? Only half of us 
left here, now! I miss Florence, and I rather 
envy her ; but, after all, my first journey is going 


862 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


to be to Omaha. Jean and Polly and I are here, 
just the same as ever, only Jean is getting digni- 
fied and doesn’t walk fences, any longer. But you 
have no idea how proud we are of Polly. She had 
the dearest little poem in the school paper last 
month; and this month she is to be editor, the 
first time a girl has ever done it. She and Alan 
are writing, too. They came in and found out 
what I was doing, so they said they were each 
going to put in a note. I don’t think it is quite 
fair, for I know they will tell you all the news. 

“You ought to have seen the new clothes Flor- 
ence had, before she went away. I went there 
once to see them, and it was like a whole dry- 
goods store. She sent for Bridget, one day, and 
gave her ever so many of her old things, to be 
made over for the children ; and Bridget went 
off hugging the great bundle and crying because 
she was 4 afraid Miss Florence would get drownded 
on the way.’ 

“ Polly has just showed me what she has been 
writing about Aunt Jane. I do wish you could 
be here for the wedding. I think Job almost 
ought to march in the bridal party, for he helped 
Mr. Baxter to get ready for a second marriage. 

“ Mrs. Adams has just come in, and wants my 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


363 


pen to write a little note while she waits for 
mamma to get ready to go out with her, so I’m 
not going to write another single word till I hear 
from you. Answer this soon, like dear girls. 
Mamma would send love, if she knew I was 
writing. 

“Your loving cousin, 

“ Molly Hapgood.” 

“That’s short enough, I should think,” said 
Jessie ungratefully. “ My last letter to her was 
two whole sheets long.” 

“Nevermind,” answered Katharine; “let’s see 
what Mrs. Adams says. Isn’t it good of her to 
write? ” 

“ My Dear Girls, — This is only a little note 
to tuck inside Molly’s letter ; but I did just want 
to say how glad I am to hear of the way my two 
girls are doing the work that has come to them. 
I am proud of them and happy in them, for they 
both seem almost like my own daughters. 

“ And this brings me to my new plan. It oc- 
curred to me, the other day, that we shall be a 
very lonely, forlorn pair of old people, when Polly 
goes off to college. Why wouldn’t it be a good 
idea for Jessie to plan to come back to us then, 


364 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


and take Polly’s place for the four years, bring a 
little young life into the home, and study medi- 
cine with the doctor while she does it. It is too 
soon, of course, to decide ; but I want you both 
to be thinking about it, for it seems to me an 
excellent idea. 

“And now I must run away and make a call 
with Aunt Ruth. 

“ With a great deal of love from 

“‘Aunt Isabel.’” 

“ Oh-h-h ! ” And Jessie gave a sigh of rapture. 

“ Yes, it is lovely of her, and just like her,” said 
Katharine ; “ and I don’t see why you can’t go. 
But now let’s take Alan’s letter. It will be sure 
to be a good one, even if it is short. Listen ! ” 

“ Dear Kit, — Is it six months or six years 
since you went home? We are all in the dumps 
without you, and don’t have anybody to pull us 
out. How comes on your housekeeping ? Molly 
made some biscuits, last night, that were so hard 
we had to get hammers to crack them open, before 
we could put on any butter. I told her she’d 
better send one to you girls, for a curiosity, but 
she said they were so heavy that she couldn’t 
afford to pay postage on them. 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


365 


“Did yon know Poll and I are taking Latin 
lessons together of Professor Smythe? We go to 
him twice a week, and have been at it a month, 
now. We’re racing each other as hard as we can. 
First she asks for a longer lesson, just to tease me, 
then I return the compliment, and neither of us 
will give in, so it keeps us studying all the time, 
mostly. We don’t care much, for nothing seems 
to be happening, this year. We must have used 
up all the fun, last winter. You and Jessie are 
gone, Florence is gone, Bridget is gone, Aunt 
Jane is going, and the rest of us will follow her 
pretty soon, unless Molly gives up trying to cook. 

“ By the way, Miss Bean — Polly says I shan’t 
tell, but I’m going to — asked Mrs. Adams, the 
other day, how she made that oyster broth she 
had for first course, the day Polly gave her dinner. 
She thought the lumps were oysters. 

“ That’s all for this time. 

“ Alan O. Hapgood.” 

“P. S. I entirely forgot to send my love to 
Jessie.” 

“ Saucy boy ! ” exclaimed Jessie, laughing. 

“Isn’t he an imp?” said Katharine, as she 
folded the letter. “He made up all that about 


366 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


Miss Bean, I know, for she didn’t take any soup 
that day. I remember her refusing it. Do you 
remember — ” 

“Do you remember?” echoed Jessie mockingly. 
“I wonder how many times we have said that, 
Kit. As if we didn’t both of us remember every 
single thing that happened through all the year 
we were East ! What does Polly say ? ” 

“ Hers is longer,” said Katharine, as she opened 
it. “ She is the best of them all to write, and her 
letters sound just like her funny, topsy-turvy 
self.” 


“ Dear Girls, — First of all, I must tell you the 
one grand item of news. Aunt Jane is going to 
be married on Thanksgiving Day. The Baxter 
children have all been exposed to chicken-pox, 
and Aunt Jane has made up her mind to be mar- 
ried at once, so she can take care of them when 
they come down with it. Isn’t it good of her, 
really? I don’t think she minds much, though, 
for she acts fond of them. Uncle Sol , as I call 
him behind his back, brought the youngest here, 
one day early in the fall ; and when I went into 
the room, there, — fancy it ! — there sat Aunt 
Jane with the baby in her lap, playing pat-a-cake 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


367 


with it, just as nice as could be. I was so sur- 
prised that I almost dropped down on the floor. 
But she insists on being married in black silk, she 
says it will be so serviceable. I think it will look 
just as if she were in mourning for the first Mrs. 
Baxter. Alan says that if the children all have 
chicken-pox, they won’t need to buy a turkey for 
Thanksgiving. 

“ Papa wants me to tell you that Bridget keeps 
just as well and strong as can be. He drove up 
there to see her, two or three weeks ago, and she 
asked all about you both. I go to the hospital 
once in a while, to see the small boys, and I make 
Alan go with me whenever I can. He has cut me 
all out with Dicky, and the child won’t have any- 
thing to say to me, when he can get Alan. You 
would hardly know Alan, he has grown so tall; 
and we think he is getting quite good-looking, too. 
Of course, he is always a duck. 

“ Molly and I are growing good. W e haven’t 
had a squabble since Florence went away. I sup- 
pose, now she can’t get anybody else, she has to 
put up with me. She has just three ideas in her 
head at present : cooking, some singing lessons 
she is going to begin next month, and her new 
gown. I suppose she would say I’m envious, for 


368 


HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. 


my new gown this winter is one of mamma’s made 
over. 

“ Miss Bean came to spend the day, last week. 
She appeared early, for she said she wanted time 
to look over all Aunt Jane’s new things, ‘seeing’s 
how’ she made the match. She did look them 
over, too, and asked what everything cost, and 
why she didn’t have something else, and then 
she gave her any quantity of advice about how 
to bring up the children. 

“ I almost forgot to tell you anything about 
Job. He ran away, the other day, going up a 
hill. A bee lighted on the side of his neck and 
stung him, and it astonished him so that he just 
started off and ran for almost a quarter of a mile. 
Then, all of a sudden, he sat down with all four 
legs at once, and that stopped him. Poor fellow, 
he is getting so old ! 

“ What a long letter I am writing ! The others 
are through, and waiting for me to carry this to 
the mail. Alan is making such a noise that I 
can’t hear myself write. He is singing: 

“ * Do the work that’s nearest, 

Though it’s dull at whiles, 

Helping, when we meet them, 

Lame dogs over stiles.’ 


ONE LAST GLIMPSE. 


369 


“I don’t know whether he means us with Job, 
or Aunt Jane with the Baxter babies, or you with 
the housekeeping. Perhaps it is for all three. 
Anyway, it is good advice. 

“Now I must stop. Oh, you dear girls, how 
I do want to see you ! Papa and Jerusalem 
always send love. I could go on for ever so much 
longer, but at last I must say good by. 

“ Your friend, 


“Polly Adams.” 




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5 ROLF AND HIS FRIENDS. 

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3 FAMOUS ENGLISH AUTHORS OF THE 19th 

CENTURY. 

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4 GOSPEL STORIES, 

Translated from the Russian of Count L. N. Tolstoi by Nathan Haskell 
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cations, are here presented in a neat and attractive volume. 

5 PHILIP, or What May Have Been 

A story of the First Century. By Mary C. Cutler. i2mo, $1.25. 

An appreciative notice of this story contains the following words : — “ Reverence, 
accuracy, a chastened feeling of perfect sincerity, pervade this book. . . . We have 
read it through, and can confidently recommend it as in every way fitted to give the 
old familiar facts of the gospel history a new interest.” 

6 HALF A DOZEN BOYS. 

By Annie Chapin Ray. i2mo, illustrated, $1.25. 

This is a genuine story of boy life. The six heroes are capital fellows, such as 
any healthy lad, or girl either for that matter, will feel heart warm toward. The 
simple incidents and amusements of the village where they live are invested with 
a peculiar charm through the hearty and sympathetic style in which the book is 
written. It is a book quite worthy of Miss Alcott’s pen. 


For sale by all booksellers. 


THOMAS Y, OEQWELL & CO., Publishers, New York. 


NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


A SCORE OF FAMOUS COMPOSERS. By Nathan 

Haskell Dole, formerly musical editor of the Philadelphia Press and Evening 
Bulletin. With portraits of Beethoven, Wagner, Liszt, Haydn, etc. i2mo, $1.50. 
No pains have been spared to make this volume of musical biographies accurate, and at 
the same time entertaining. Many quaint and curious details have been found in out-of- 
the-way German or Italian sources. Beginning with Palestrina, “ the Prince of Music,” 
concerning whose life many interesting discoveries have been recently made, and ending 
with Wagner, the twenty Composers, while in the majority of German origin, still embrace 
representatives of England and Italy, Hungary and Russia, of France and Poland. 
Free from pedantry and technicalities, simple and straightforward in style, these sketches 
aim above all to acquaint the reader, and particularly the young, with the personality of 
the subjects, to make them live again while recounting their struggles and triumphs. 

FAMOUS ENGLISH STATESMEN. By Sarah K. Bol- 
ton, author of “ Poor Boys Who became Famous.” With Portraits of Gladstone, 
John Bright, Robert Peel, etc. i2mo, $1.50. 

Mrs. Bolton has found a peculiarly congenial subject in her latest contribution to the 
series of “ Famous” books. Nearly all of the English statesmen whose biographies she 
so sympathetically recounts, have been leaders in great works of reform ; and with many 
Mrs. Bolton had the privilege of personal acquaintance. She has given succinct, yet suffi- 
ciently detailed descriptions of the chief labors of these statesmen, and the young reader 
will find them stirring and stimulating, full of anecdotes and bright sayings. 

THE JO-BOAT BOYS. By Rev. J. F. Cowan, D.D., editor o£ 

“Our Young People,” etc. Illustrated by H. W. Peirce, umo, $1.50. 

The shanty boats which shelter the amphibious people along the banks of the Ohio are 
called Jo-Boats, and Dr. Cowan has chosen this original environment for the earlier 
scenes of his remarkably lively and spirited story. It will appeal to every boy who has a 
spark of zest in his soul. 

AN ENTIRE STRANGER. By Rev. T. L. Baily. Illustrated. 

i2mo, $1.25. 

The heroine of Mr. Baily’s naive and fascinating story is a school-teacher who is full 
of resources, and understands how to bring out the diverse capabilities of her scholars. 
She wins the love and admiration of her school, and interests them in many improve- 
ments. It is a thoroughly practical book, and we should be glad to see it in the hands of 
all teachers and their scholars. 

WHAT GIRLS CAN DO; OR, THROWN ON HER 
OWN RESOURCES. By “Jennie June” (Mrs. Croly). 
A book for girls. i2mo, $1.25. 

Mrs. Croly, the able editor of The Home Maker , in this book for girls, shows in her 
practical, common-sense way, what chances there are open to young women, when the 
necessity comes for self-support. The wise, prudent words of one who has had so much 
experience in dealing with the problems of life will be welcomed by a large class of 
readers. 

LED IN UNKNOWN PATHS. By Anna F. Raffensperger. 

Illustrated. i2mo, $1.2$. 

A simple, unpretentious diary of homely, every-day life. It is so true to nature that it 
reads like a transcript from an actual journal. It is full of good-humor, quiet fun, gentle 
pathos, and good sound sense. One follows with surprising interest the daily doings, the 
pleasures and trials of the good family whose life is pictured in its pages. 

HALF A DOZEN GIRLS. By Anna Chapin Ray, author of 

“ Half a Dozen Boys.” Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

A book for girls displaying unusual insight into human nature with a quiet, sly humor, 
a faculty of investing every-day events with a dramatic interest, a photographic touch, 
and a fine moral tone. It ought to be a favorite with many girls. 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & 00., Publishers, New York. 
















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